EPISODE · Mar 20, 2025 · 3 MIN

Happenstance

from #StoriesAboutSongs · host RedefineHipHop

Shrouded in darkness, his eyes like the stars in the sky Hard to describe but recognized from the scars on his hide Deep and hideous but do not not pity us, or our affiliates We get really deep into the meat, exposing idiots The truth comes to light, but sometimes it’s too bright This is life, eternal fight just to try and do it right An approach that’s assiduous, connective just like MIDI is A matter of convenience more stress, like the city is I ain’t city kid, come from the other side of town Been a foreigner, I stood and I took a look around Trying to master my surroundings, trying keep my spirit grounded Trying to keep my goals unbounded, trying to finalize my sound But it’s finite, the grind might, lead me to the pine box It’s fine art, but still use my hands, like it’s sign talk Sign off, final transmission from the field of dreams I build through means, without the profit, altered logic, Celestine Seldom seen, selling magic beans on the dark web Plant, add water, watch ‘em grow in your own head Gon’ head, times are critical, the warning’s on red False Prophets on the corner, spinning lies, daddy long legs I’ve long said, ‘My end is near’, but here I am, the long stretch Wrong neck of the woods, on a path, taking the wrong steps Lost wanderer, spell conjurer, mic conqueror Return of the minotaur, the quintessential ponderer Incremental sacrifice, slowly slice away ya life Ya played with dice, snake eyes, now I guess ya pay the price I prayed for rights of those who every day they have to raise & fight Day and night, modern man’s version of the canaanites Each page write covers lots of ground, it’s the age of ice Aging nice, kept it down-n-dirty like some cajun rice Stages / Lights make me feel confined like some caged in mice Rather be druid in seclusion, under cave-light Made life better, once I focused on my hindsight Key in on my happiness, disregard the limelight So all aboard the astral plane, it’s your captain speaking If I get too far ahead, just look out for the beacon I spend weekend’s writing endlessly to keep me from the bush-league First round draft pick, Atlanta bound, Butch Lee Wish ME luck, I’m bout to test this new contraption Used for mapping out the future to ensure conducive action Using magic, plus some ancient gadgets, logic with some changing facets Lean into my strangest habits, sit at home, creating classics Fading sands, back in time, shot the ground, made em dance Game of chance, trying to hold on with they’re praying hands Way advanced, futuristic being, secret life of plants Speaker of the House of Wax where EVERYthing is happenstance