Rapping for Change He's a sleek saunterer, street wanderer, steep ponderer Speech powerful, each honorer reaches down in a Deeper pocket for meager profits that keep him stockier Instead of pizza maybe this time he can beef & brocc it up Heat hot enough, speeding through in a sloppy rush Without a beatboxer to bop to, emcee-er shouts to them Respect to the beggars but never says ‘please drop some in' If ever he were desperate he'd get them to wish he'd rock again Your friendly neighborhood hip-hopper that needs to shop for stuff That cost him bucks but a lot of that tedious job is luck Thus, he never drops his cup or puts it down Or piddles when the sniffles come, the kid'll gun with crooked rounds So he pushes sounds around bound to tourist towns As is his, after this he'll hound another crowd And bust it proudly whether cloudy or the sun is out From the mouth he thrusts it loudly for the ones that's round Something found underground where the yuppies drown Pure poetry that goes to sleep for upwards frowns Like his city that's strikingly pretty Or hyper kiddies mighty giggly at night with their besties He might get busy for ciggies and a couple of pennies But he can't help but wish he'd fill a bigger piggy Bank, but thanks though, I needed that… Sometimes I just wanna fly away And I will never touch the ground Maybe I will go to outer space And I will never come down Nah, never that He'll just float like kush smoke push from throats While he cooks dope-esque hood quotes for “good folks” He should go 'cause this sure cold was foretold But he's more broke so he roars notes for pure gold or stoges And that warm toke will warn most who mourn ghosts But that boy gloats with a hoarse hope Sorely spoken, the busker's own curative potion Is pure emotion that touches them with furious devotion Wondering what all of them think Falls by the brink of destruction, he exalts what he sings To a level of impressiveness, their coins become his And whatever he expresses then will only be rich If, what a concept the lonliest wish Which, underlines scripts when longing for it Shesh, what the sky'll do is draw in his chin To run a rhyme by slumbered minds and bring awe to these friends Single serving, wrinkled curr'ncy are some dollars he gets But simply perfect, him deserving never argues against Swiftly turning, gently swerving through the horrible mess That blends his purpose with a courage that gets bothered at best Yes, pair of double crosses guarding his chest So he'd say beware of double cross from others (from others) Pair of double crosses guarding his chest So he'd say beware of double cross from others Sometimes I just wanna fly away And I will never touch the ground Maybe I will go to outer space And I will never come down He blends in as part whilst standing out as different He feels the pain of his cohorts and in turn benefits A roaming heart, under only sky, yet home Millions of living-mates but he hates being alone Free, donuts at dawn, slightly stale and subtly wonderful He smiles while he cries, eating. It's comfortable A loiterer legally relaxing on his porches To smoke some of what's left in his collection of like four or six The mornings are hard, everyone's on their way somewhere Away somewhere or already working in its warming start The metal of his coins are hot, palms sweat when he dumps them (If only they'd itch) plus some paper bills, something A cardboard sign wielding couple ask politely If he could spare a nickel towards their trouble, he denies them They hear his wrist wiggle to say he's trying too, their eyes confused Framed so filth'ly, He's ashamed, no guilty, but he can't