Rhythm and Poetry; Produced by Ray Scavo

Beat “Candle Light”

This is a story/ that is not looking for glory/

That puts cats/ on blast/ for bad business like Mal and Rory/

Or meant to expose/ one time friends/ because that’s corny/

This is a testimony/ on how the game/ tried to destroy me/

For the record/ if you respect it/ l never asked anyone to do something for me/

Independent artist/ even when the skies were stormy/

And rain drops fell before me/ when the Sun chose to ignore me/

The rap game is like the game of death/ I fight depression/ with aggression/ with fists of fury/

Wait a minute/ before we/ take inventory/ prematurely/

I will repeat/ the best advice/ ever given to me/

If you want to make your dreams come true/ write them down/ by an OG/

The only name that y’all gonna get/

A street hustler cat/ named Rick/

About 5’6”/

Whose clothes never fit/

And thought he was slick/

He was throwing parties/ he had 50 models/ all hotties/

A coordinator/ with an amazing body/

Fashion designers/ that were kinda cocky/

No Diddy/ although/ a hustler is what I embody/

I wrote a business plan/ I didn’t hesitate for a second/

Even though Rick/ was as crooked as the number seven/

His business plan/ was to fake/ and manipulate/

No business license/ from the/ Empire State/

He owed the models money/

Smiling like/ it was funny/

Karma is a bitch/ he was dating/

Like a big dummy/

So/ what’s a broke, young kid, like me gonna do?/

Especially when he helps out promoting my crew/

Move forward/ every minute of every hour/

The 1st law/ of the 48 Laws of power/

Never outshine the master/ play your position/

Instinctively/ well before that law/ was even written/

Loyalty/ caused my ascent/

Rick made me the vice president/

Everything was good/ till the business went/

Under like a stone in water/

I felt bad like a father/

Who was watching porn/ and saw his only daughter/

Plus the models quit/

No one/ ever paid them shit/

They’re all calling me/

Asking where the fuck is Rick?/

I call him/ I’m surprised that he picked up/

I tell him what the girls said/ is there’s a mix up?/

He sent the limo to my crib/ so we could talk/

Knowing what I know now/ I would have walked/

The engine caught on fire/ and I don’t know why/

All I know/ is it feels like/ I’m gonna die/

Surely/ there’s got to be another way/ than to choose poorly/

Hindsight is 20/20-looking-back-now/ I’m sure he/

Needed a go between/ so that he could win/

Took a cab/ and never saw him again/

1st lesson learned here/

You need money/ to make money/

This is not a new idea/

2nd lesson learned here/

Things typically end/ how they start/

Let’s fast forward a couple years/

I’m certainly not broke anymore/

I make a million a year/ take that and/ divide it by four/

I have the spirit of an entrepreneur/

I invest 20 grand/ so-that-I could settle the score/

Ladies and gentlemen/ dudes and dudetts/

A safe space for artists/ is open/ for business/

And even though the industry/ never accepted me/

I had the stamp of the streets/ like a notary/

I needed some help/ so I recruited some poets/

Seeds of success are planted/ now let’s grow it/

Due to curiosity/ people support/ cause they wanna see/

Who’s spending cheese/ in the black community/

Sun is shining now/ but I’m in the eye of the storm/

Just like that/ Rhythm and Poetry is born/

I Had a spot in Atlanta/ and one in Sacramento/

Now hates close to their heart/ like a memento/

I pay musicians and poets/ for showcases and features/

Started out as the student/ now I’ve become the teacher/Others are on the bench/ and some that are in the bleachers/

Want me out the house/ like I’m a crawling creature/

They think that I’m rich bitch/

Like ashy Larry/

But they don’t see/ the burdens/ I have to carry/

I’ve got paper coming in/ the front door-sure/

But most of that paper/ goes out the back door/

Some women that work for me/ want to live large/

Try to extort me/ with a sexual assault charge/

With all this hate in the game/ I now figure/

Why Rick/ chose to rob y’all niggas/

Open-Mic/ nights/ we charge five/ at the door/

Grown men are telling me they’ve only got four/

Artists over charge/ feeling that they are elite/

But they don’t put people asses into the seats/

And they won’t promote the event/

Steady looking to press me/ for the back end of the payment/

They’re in my pocket so much/

it feels weird when they’re not/

Like the cell phone/ still at home/ that you forgot/

I’m the curator of the spot/

In my 50 Cent voice/ I can’t help that I’m hot/

Some try to find something wrong/

They say I’m not black enough/ like Halle Berry playing Storm/

This is the part/ Rick didn’t warn/

Me about/ and this is the end of the song/

Just to let y’all know I don’t hate y’all/

But I understand/ why some choose to take y’all/

To the cleaners….