Ted James – Paixão (feat. Jennifer James)

M7, the movement never sleeps
Rhime Divine
The storm in my head is so thick
All in all it was just another brick

Writing is my passion, the bastion that I last in
My spirit everlasting, alive in every fraction
Of a thought my pens impacting, I’m dead if I’m not asking
My head to break bread, and my hands not interacting
I need this pain locked up to ration in poetic reaction
Guess that’s insane but I’m asking for your basic understanding
Just a product of my product’s lack of normal satisfaction
See I was brought up not to get caught up in the normalcy I’m lacking
But I was balled up in a shy rut and I was constantly retracting
Now I’m all guts, slicing deep cuts and I’m constantly attacking
With my inner most captions for an outward sense of traction
On the surface calm but masking the manic energy I’m grasping
To stay afloat in my contraption while my time keep on compacting (echo)
Time for action, this is a way of life, no regrets, no more distractions
No more sitting on the sidelines watching bylines get held captive
Need an atlas for this package sharp as cactus shipped like magic
Across Atlantic to get blasted on the campus of the frantic
Time to panic, too outlandish, I’m all damage, but I’m damaged
I’m sandwiched between banished and permanently brandished
As the first human bandwidth that pushed traffic with a classic
Moving faster than the fastest of the pack that runs this racket
Story’s tragic, I’m an addict for my attic to get at it
Such is habit, no more fact checks, you can have it, here’s the static

Fantasize in the beat
Pelo Bairro Alto
As I swallow it down
Will I fade? Will I know?

Writing is my passion, the bastion that I last in
My spirit everlasting, alive in every fraction
Of the questions that I’m asking when my head is seeking truth
Lost my father and my backspin while I was still lost in my youth
Jumper purer than flaming absinthe, used to put it in the hoop
Now I’m reeling in his absence, reduced to head fake not to shoot
My minds a labyrinth full of tactics, need a plan to bare me fruit
Tattered canvas, can’t recant this, I’m my own cold living proof
Better than anyone I’ve studied who has entered in the booth
Waters muddied by my swagger, I’m too nice to execute
The dismantling of an art form in my own selfish pursuit
Way too humble to type cast this pure reflection of where we group
Tattoo my name upon the casket when I’m buried in a loop
Undo the pain of heartache tragic machine time so resolute
My pen inclines my inner turmoil to flow melodic like a flute
Line so fine between destruction and redemption, it’s a fluke
So redefine my sense of purpose in the minutia that I scoop
From despair to serve on paper like a poet’s secret soup
I’m bestowed with gifts that haunt me when I’m stoic in my use
Of heroic prose unfolding like a woven blanket muse
My glands are swollen from withholding like a feverish recluse
So feel the fury that’s exploding through this microphone abuse
Getting loose, unloading thunder off my chest like I was Zeus
I live forever through the written, all the rest in death, vamoose

Fantasize in the beat
Pelo Bairro Alto
As I swallow it down
Will I fade? Will I know?

Writing is my passion, the bastion that I last in
My spirit everlasting, alive inside the plastic contra bandwidth
Holding systematic ink inside my touch
I’m alive to drive a humanely tragic dream to garner thrust
These eyes see lies to intervene in the machine that screams to hush
With kerosene thrown on the fire, conspired lit rhymes combined combust
In non sequential potential amplified instrumental rise in trust
I’m the quintessential exponential poem pried from dust (repeat)

As I swallow it down
Will I fade? Will I know?

© 2011 Millinium VII Entertainment / Produced by D-Wattz / Mixed by Ted James and Jennifer James / Recorded at The House of Jeezy Studios / All rights reserved