A-Rob - Final Words

The sky don't seem quite as blue as it did when I was a kid and the clouds are darker
Had so much to give, now days I struggle with what to offer
The chapters are getting bleaker sometimes I question the author
My heart was a drum the world treated that shit like Travis Barker
A permanent marker target on me and my people
I was taught that it's not the skin but the heart that is equal
I was taught that it's not the language it's not the culture or clothes
It's the honor that makes a person it's lacking now I suppose
Simpler days, white owls, hanging out with my bros
Freestyling discussing life and the questions bout it we'd pose
A young boy in Gaza's favorite song is one that I composed
As he listens off his brother's phone and the concrete hits his toes
A white flag in his hand
A list of martyrs that grows
A brave look in his eyes
A hometown with no homes
A dirty face, a cup of old rice, and a runny nose
He raps it as a distraction while his neighborhood explodes, uh
The sun isn't quite as bright as it seemed when I was a teen
When I didn't know that really nothing is quite what it seem
I still think a song can change the world and so I write from the heart
The nightmare of being brought into this life with a dream
Thousand shackles and burdens, hurting I wouldn't trade for a second
Tossing and turning in the bed that I made and then I slept in
Countless times I got rewarded when I prayed for a blessing
God answered on the days I was stressing now ain't that impressive?
Are we all chosen or has the universe made its selection?
Is it arbitrary? If not I thought I'd make a suggestion
Could you grant me a voice to heal?
Could I write something they gone feel?
Could you shield my face from the fake?
Could you make me amongst the real?
Could you channel your message through me?
Allow me to paint the beauty of life's purpose in my verses like Marley Dylan or Rumi
You granted this gift to me
I pray that I don't abuse it
If I don't use it for good then I didn't fulfill my duty
I pray
With a pen in hand just hoping that you'll speak through me
They judge me when they look at me but what if they really knew me?
Not sure if I know myself if I'm speaking about it truly
But somewhere in Palestine there's a group of kids, 8 and 9
With a speaker playing this song and they've memorized every line
And a fighter jet in the sky so what can I say in this rhyme
Worthy of being the final words they'll utter before they die
Bismillah

Written by:
Ameen Rahman

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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