Headphones produced by Hollywood Legend

Verse 1:
The streets have got a rhythm for livin or been deceased…the clock is the composer percussion is the police /
The floor or on bleachers they’re fillin up every seat…no layaways or refunds it’s printed within receipts /
N if you want a peak, his soliloquy, will reveal all the freedoms depreciated by me /
Teacher said he had a future, believin it was deceit…only course he ever passed was American history /
Heard every word that the weed spoke…flew every night to a fake land /
Role models, J Cole n D Rose…but he couldn’t rhyme right or space jam /
So he’s headin out on the world all alone where the answers come slow and the help never shows /
What was for his dad will be, for himself so he, just breathes, with his headphones on

And so I runaway with my headphones…find the better place I wa meant fo’ /
Spin dials to the right, send denial to the left, fly away from the world with my headphones on

Verse 2:
Love can be the score of a musical symphony…the low or the crescendo but never the in between /
Freedom is a blessing or is it a luxury…for it to harmonize then society must believe /
…E’ry pen stroke, in her journal in-voked, all the trials and the struggles of her kin folk /
N she didn’t vote…n never could’ve known how tomorrow is what she had to win for /
Pressure on a teen is some bullsht…the gossip is enough to make em give up /
She always had to wonder if she wasn’t right, she could just run…but then what /
No smiles through the lies if you wanna just hide, soar high like a butterfly, n take flight /
Her face turned red, a line through her mouth, a line through her eyes…n her headphones on

Verse 3:
A bottle is the treble a rock’ll provide the bass…the feet’ll keep on stompin, embarkin upon the gates /
No harmonies in talkin with enemies of the state…no pausin of the tape, just repeatin one’s fate /
A blank pad is the canvas where he channels thoughts…the window panel’s shakin from another bomb /
No alarm, no arrival of the cops, just a regular occurrence ain’t no way to make it stop /
His life is not the subject of writers or iReporters, cause there’s boredom in a press room if they ain’t whorin the slaughter /
The glamor of the moment is what is bein abolished, yet his passion and his is zone is on tryin to get into college /
…Holy book said to be the best you…not a martyr lost in the next coup… /
Movin through the war for surahs or jet fuel…zoom, with his headphones on