Imperial Sound

[Intro] Praise I just don't understand how things got so out of hand Tell me [Verse 1: Torae] I'm back for another go 'round on this merry-go-round I'm livin', pennin' and givin' you imperial sound Turn the booth to a burial ground, I hommie everything The James Holmes of the poems, I shotty every... Every beat is the bang, every ringer I rang Every Tweeter, every speaker say I'm doin' my thang The units I slang, move it, remain, crew is the same Out in Hollywood swingin', shit is Kool & the Gang My Balmains got gratuitous hang, it's grown man sag Traded the thots for stocks, that's grown man swag Add a "mothafucka" so the ignant people hear me Miseducated as Ms. Hill in your theories Tryna provide answers like Sway searchin' his Siri With Kanye at his side, now can you feel me? This shit is that crucial, it's ever fuck me or act neutral Cause they'd rather shoot you than salute you [Interlude: Torae] I mean I couldn't figure a better way to set it off Been goin' on for a minute, I've been spittin' Yeah, this that imperial sound shit Sing it, though Let's get back to it [Verse 2: Torae] Since that last LP, I might have gained some fans They was on the Posturepedic, had a change of plans Don't let the money change you when it's changin' hands I've been a stand-up guy, never changed my stance I never came to dance, I spit legend Believe we should reign the city, no kick steppin' My kicks epic, your clique retched, your bitch ratchet I'm a solo album away from a hat trick, you can't match it You ain't catch it don't mean I ain't pen it I can quote some dope shit, I can't force 'em to get it Can't force 'em to listen, it's more awesomely written Need the pen, the pad, the track best force 'em, I've been in They say pressure bust pipes and make diamonds Shit I'm tryna lay the pipe, bustin' cake rhymin' It's ironic, to be nice I rap meanest My pen had been on the mark, man, I was designed a rap genius [Interlude: Torae] That's real talk, man And so there you have it Goin' on for a while, I've been wildin', Coney Island Yeah, I'm feelin' like it's time to get into this LP But before we get right there, I got my guy Sean Taylor with me I'ma let Sean talk to 'yall for a minute, get it [Trumpet Solo: Sean Taylor] [Outro: Saul Williams] Imperial grace of the lexicon Words are chosen even, and we are not The space to ponder, the breath within the trumpet Muted voice, still music, muted minds provoke thought The meaning of meaning Lovesick poet drunk off enunciation, staggering through universes of belief Premeditation, self preservation A man should, no matter how mundane the practice Young girl taps his shoulder to ask daddy what that is, aww baby He's just sleeping The uniformed men that surround him never question what they're policing Your place in this story, rent, owning or leasing When Black lives are capital, they were lowercased Mispronounced a whole system you fuckin' faced