Own/Owe

Own/Owe

Tell me something you owe?

A debt? Come collectors over the phone.

Count out what you own.

Time left? Less time off, property, your poppa’s holocaust survivor piece; a giant waste of time you see?

You’ll notice these words set the tone.

You owe for what you own.

You’re only hope is to over gross.

To net what you catch nothing less plus leftovers to show for the people next door.

Scrape extra case the catch is a case make it brief there you go.

Let the cat out the bag, grow the money a clone.

Cash you owe what you own til you don’t.

That’s when you go.

Wait, lemme go slow.

First, tell me what you stole.

A clock? A coat? Something worth a showing, or consuming so you woke.

No, oh no, you slept in this morning?

Wake postponed, ohh, you almost coming close to comatose you so focused on what matters most.

Burnt toast owes you smoke.

You own a home.

Owner spend time in the things that they own.

Parts of my mind owe the parts that I don’t.

They tell time apart like it’s two different zones.

That’s pretty appropriate though, since sentences had time to blow.

Leave with a piece that I owe you for hearing.

Your owners deceive you, smoke is clearing.

You’re hear cause you stole, work if you’re caught.

When you get old and much closer to God.

You’ll return the soul and this home that you bought.

Owner at last cause the owe you paid off.

Oh Mr.Glass how they crash to the floor.

Why the harassment and asking before.

Your known for ass kicking rappins an art.

Formal mortality fortune will fall.

Luck must run out, less you out run the sun.

Go become the lessor now wanting rent like the ants on the ground want crumbs.

Sometimes it’s none to be found.

Life is so precious and messy abound.

Crown yourself best of the best just for now.

Cause courage is less of a blessing than doubt.

I promise you brave men are never so proud.

So give yourself a moment, rest your head in the clouds.

Write your own testament.

Spell it all out.

What’s better than better than anything else?

The heaven you meant to have built for the now.

You are intetherable.

You don’t owe anything now.

All that you own is a rental right down, to the toes and the social posts that don’t gather crowds.

Yet you’re special somehow.

So reset yourself.

I’ll say it again.

Rest your head in the clouds.

Count all your blessings, let heaven come down.