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The Pauper & The Patriot (Featuring Malci) Produced by Malci

from each one, teach one by Mykele Deville

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about

the poor and the rich both dream and scheme.

lyrics

Mykele's Verse:

Two cogent truths separated at birth,

the first one was a condition,

second one was a curse.

Their mother sang and she screamed

with her womb full of dreams,

they gave her drugs for the cuts,

and then they sewed her back up,

they stole them.

And when I say that I really mean us.

Theiving kids of yesterday's prophets dollars looking like Jesus.

Please us or risk looking sacrilegious.

Don't insult my indigenous tinge, I think you're starting to sound treasonous even.

Fistfighting heathenous demons locking eyes with my freedom.

Sychronize the time to free them,

pay them pennies it's still currently currency in my book.

think I'm bout to go full crook

just take a bit of what I need and pack my pockets with what I want.

that's what this country's bout don't gotta front.

claiming the wilds of dead America,

shiny bones be scaring ya,

whiffing the funk of your own musk,

them watery eyes don't know who to trust

this mighty sorrow packs a punch

staking out to find free lunch

it might be you so best to think it through.

that same dream that made you wealthy made me human stew.

yelling "indictment!" from the gallows as the pigeons flew.

a noose was formed with the umbilical, this country knew, to strangle you & you & me too, ya dig?

chrous:

in the scheme we're all just kids leaning slightly towards the light of where the punctuation ends.
you take a knife for your beliefs.
I take a bite to fill my ribs.
we're just a pauper & a patriot
wondering where the safety's at

(Malci repeats chorus)

Malci Verse:

I got the diesel with me like I'm d wade in 05/
I'm so fried
Plus the liquor keeps my tongue tied/
I wonder why
I make the time to make my mind stutter/
Faded in the morning, trading spliffs with my brothers/
And they all drilling like we playing dig dug/
Red rum to the fox anchors painting us as thugs/
Pass drugs to the whole block and come back with hand cuffs/
Then shoot when our hands up/
Now if that ain't fucked up/
Keep the cycle spinning like its ghost rider/
I said I'd stifle the venom-- I pulled the rope tighter/
I seen the homies caught up-- all the feds' is spiders/
If Peter Parker lit a spliff, bet he'd get a write up/
Stuck in dots and loops like a prisoner of Mars/
Crooked 12 ain't scared to shoot so it's in earth or bars/
And the judge saying life like we ain't fucking people/
Same reason I'm blowing on this diesel/ evil.

credits

from each one, teach one, released August 27, 2016
Malci, you ball out.
Chris Lee is God.

license

all rights reserved

tags

about

Mykele Deville Chicago, Illinois

+Poet Rapper+
+Chicago +

I was born.
A pebble.
A pestilence.
The sickness
in the rock,
it formed
a skeleton.
Crystalized thoughts,
adorned,
with melanin.
The sands
in the clock,
They tick
and they tock,
ya dig?
... more

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