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Artist: Trademarc
Album:  Inferiority Complex (Chapter One)
Song:   21 Grams
Typed by: Hatt's Crib

Born in lust, turned to dust
Born in sin, come on in

[Verse 1]
Beneath it all we fall past ridiculous with inconspicuous projects
And barely audible progress with concepts probable complex
Soluble process at the onset it's possible to want less
Fuck it regardless laudable poetical, ain't shit sweet when I speak
It's diabetical, decibel move right, decimal sooth like it's medical
Y'all susceptible to my flow
Glow and burn slow, beacon to most, discreet when I coast through
Vocabulary engrossed you, I'm hopeful but realistic
So I know you missed it, most do
Distort the bad news, the avenues to rearrange your values
To honour your life, that's fatal advice to pass you
In this matter of man and you're palpable behind the camera
Satellites to scatter my ground crews of acolytes to glide through
To pass em by the black of night to find you you blind fool
Forever darkened endeavours, sever the letters behind the fictional headers
Of newsflash photography, gas cards mockery
The mimickery, debauchery, your best moves manoeuver out the lottery
Little man, I found the symmetry of simple-minded infancy
Within this industry of bigotry
21 grams less, you just left the shell of a man
And if my sentiment's bland it's either lost love or love lost, dawg you never were fam

[Verse 2]
In between life's literal contrast and miserable flawed cast
We fall past wisdom in the sick with the laws passed
We all clash with them in the system where God's wrath
Is laughable, malleable, ? the joke's parable
Is that the story's still passable it's incidental
And I believe it's detrimental if you sentimental
Or compatible, man ? fast and catatonic
It's ironic, we taught to ask if the logic is lost on raps not iconic
And our conception of life is a digression where misnomers suffice
A syndicate life, secretive like weapon device
Where schematic characters carved in walls with a savage's knife is worthwhile
When we hit that turnstile, the earth smile once we in that six foot dirt pile
I don't know where to begin and I've been sinning
A fitting end to my falling, you could call it the devil's bidding
How I've been living this ? revolver could bring an end
And if I could find my religion supportive of my decision
This could all be resolved, we appalled by the gall of my vision
And in addition by admission I think it's stupid to call me forgiven
Because I'm willing to fill in for the position of villain in your cubical stall
Are you amused? I've been battered and bruised, even abused
My ego even believed in y'all views as I pursue to be receiving y'all news
As I perused, eyes glued to the Good Book, facts are skewed
Elements and those developments are misconstrued with no evidence
Or relevance to fuel the feud between the educated few and those easily fooled
And since I'm easily amused by you I'll never be moved