Break Bread lyrics

[Hook: Illogic] {x2}
I brought rhymes to the table
And everybody made space
Divided it accordingly, and Blueprint said grace
[Blueprint]
I brought beats to the table
And everybody made space
Divided it accordingly, Illogic said grace
Illogic said grace
Illogic said grace

[Verse: Illogic]
I'm no longer tickled by you fickle fabrications
Of simple exhalations calculated with nonsense actually elevated
Now that I'm weightless, no longer lost in youth
Lost in which the teeth of a greenish tint
I've been rhyming since time and energy held hands, and you just
Had your first session last week, but you nice
Asking to do a song with Ill in the hope to flex the skill
But your vocals won't come out right, 'cause it's your second time at a mic
(What the hell is he doing?) I don't know, Print, the way these cats
Flow wack and wanna act like they not feeling me
Claiming I make up words and that I'm too abstract
'Cause I expand vocab in the lab and barely spit a simile
I'm trying to take hip-hop to places it's never been
Like your mom's deck, instead of having your sister hoping in her dreams
I want your grandma at my show, rocking my shirt
And your pops asking to use your copy of Unforeseen
'Cause I dropped a fly -ish, like an eagle
Smuggling illegal substance in bowel, fumbling droppings
You already receiving hate mail from labels, telling you you wack
And never catching a hit, you continue to keep shopping
They just don't get it (They need to be circled the finest china)
With a tall glass of fresh wine squeezed from the grapes of wrath
With a linoleum table cloth and [?] napkins
'Til they can listen to they own wack rapping and laugh
[Hook: Illogic] [Blueprint]
I brought beats to the table
And everybody made space
Divided it accordingly, Illogic said grace
[Illogic]
I brought rhymes to the table
And everybody made space
Divided it accordingly, and Blueprint said grace

And Blueprint said grace
And Blueprint said grace

[Verse: Blueprint]
There ain't enough time in the day
To shred your gay doc*ments
You heard what it takes but you still did the opposite
And fronted like you was hungry for a battle
But you better restrict what you crave to White Castles
You want food for thought, how you like apples?
I got one with a worm in it I can toss at you
And I can tell by the way you bite styles
That the natural instinct is to catch it in your mouth
Straight sharking
But I got a box full of fingertips locked in my closet
When cats bite mine, I make deposits
It's sad what you gotta do to make 'em stop it
Take these words home and think 'em through
Or the next hand with four fingers might belong to you
Cats got it wrong cause they know your song
They think they got the right to stick their nose where it don't belong
You want to know where Print be digging at
You wanna know what spot I got my drums from
You wanna know what I be making beats on
I got a new piece of gear now you want one
Ain't nothing wrong with sharing information
But there was a lot of bullsh*t I had to go through
It made me appreciate the art form more
And you be missing that if I just told you
Cats be like...
"You nice on the beats Blueprint, can you do some for me?
Your sh*ts' hot."
But when you say you don't believe in doing beats for free
All of a sudden, the phone calls stop
Fine
Now I can concentrate on me and mine
And bum rushing any open door we can find
I rep Greenhouse Effect
Seems we're gonna drop it
Life's Innocence, buy the album when I drop it
[Hook] {x2}


[Illogic] [x4]
I brought rhymes
He brought beats

The rest of you motherf*ckers is weak. (You suck!)

--

Dance with me

Sinking slowly into the seas of shadow
Silently screaming for something, someone to save me
How many times must time catch me dancing off-beat with circus clowns oblivious to the obvious
As these severed heads sit upon my mantle daily declaring that I die also?
'Why lay dormant as you', I ask, demented without direction
No - no, no, I refuse your refuge recycled reflecting running rampant and wildly within
I see now
I see now for I cannot see next and before has slipped my mind
What do you see?
Do you see what you could have been or what you've become?
I see what I am
I see in me, I see I am shining through from behind my eyes
Find yourself in life's rhythm and dance with me
Move your soul step by step towards perfect
Find life's rhythm only within and then, only then, you may dance
The faces we weave
This tapestried headdress upon the height of my existence metamorphs to fit the occasion
The rooms of life change as does the mask worn to show the person hoping to be presented at the present position of sand or time to the layman
This face doesn't begin to show the sides of this polygon
Movement into new words cause new masks to be invented
Green pastures are invented for mask removal, relaxation from impersonation of self

When you look at me, what do you see?
What you want to or what I allow
Do the two combine at times to create a mesh of persons encompassed in one?
Encased in face concocting, we continue to build veils of brick to shield the extensive, horrid view with face paints of faulty framework
How can one so stable morph at a dime drop?
Do I do that?
Do you do that?
We all take part in the dance of the [?]
Stand atop your table of despair
Your table set in the presence of thine enemies as you blend as an imposter
So continue to blend and lose thyself

When you set your eyes upon this shell, you see the mask that you wish, not the mask that is there
Very few take time to reach past their perception and dive into the reality of personality
In your eyes, I am what you mold me to be when in most cases, that's not who I am
Due to society, we constantly stand on the brink of transformation unbeknownst to ourselves because of typecasting
To you, who am I?
To me, who are you?
The answer to these questions continue to change as we seek a redefinition of ourselves through mask creations
New masks are formed as we encounter the scenery on this journey of life, whether the scenery positive or negative
A new face is molded accordingly by you or the beings you come in contact with
So be conscious of what mask you wear while I sit dreaming of the day where we won't have to wear masks at all
Imagine that
Imagine that
Imagine that

Where am I now?
Not where I want to be, but supposed to be, I hope
I am, therefore I breathe, I breathe, therefore I live, yet at times, I do not exist
See, existing is not necessarily living, I've found
Many exist as the walking dead, as I do at times, to escape just living
It kinda makes you think, why escape just living?
Well, just living isn't always just, at times, it's just insane or it's just pain
But the pain and/or insanity are often justified as just life
I am prey trapped in the snares of just life
Hoping to be freed by just death, which many fear, but I reply, it's just death
At that point, I am silenced by a just life, that I enjoy, though painful
Pleasure rears its beautiful head more often than not to remind me that a just life must be accompanied by just living
Yet at times, I still wish to just exist, encouraging me to just live
See at times, I wish to just exist
But that encourages me to continue to just live

Fallen
I've fallen from the clouds, but on my feet I've fallen
Crouched in fetal position, a high wire master, but I've fallen
Was hoping to shine on the stage where asteroids dance hand in hand waving banners that read 'star', but I've fallen
An apple connected to the roots that dug into the earth, but why does my core deem itself domicile to the thoughts of earthworms?
I've fallen into that ditch too many times, but time does nothing but encourage me to look forward to the time when I would fall again
Why fall when you can float?
Why walk when you can read?
Why speak when you can write?
Why bleed when you can dream, or can you dream?
It seems your dreams stop at the last sheep counted, straddling the picket fence beneath
Where my voice leaves waves and doesn't look back, reminding me that the high wire is too risky and the sidewalk street swallows men whole
Earth angels with clipped wings and dismal togas, dingy from the desolate walk with me
I walk with me and see myself in the better light that tips the sun rays, and watch my falling thoughts rev on revolving runways

I am not strange
I stand at the forefront of this race
Though my race has four fronts, all masked
Each solo hue all adapted from the fourth
I am not strange
Though my life is an open book that began with chapter twelve and the proceeding chapters are charred on the charcoals glowing at a furious 451 Fahrenheit
Is this the height of my being?
Am I being too abstract for laymen to catch each parable thrown into the garden of tombstones with a lack of shieldings from smooth stones lay men?
I stand alone in this old brick house that sits atop the highest molehill that each mountain you see is made out of
I am not strange
Yet I am drawn to the pencil that draws my perspective in a strange fashion
Is it strange that I enter the shooting range baring arms that drip phalanges from each palm?
When all along this long shot at living the 19th Psalm has me sweating bullets perforating each moving target
Stop moving
Stop moving unless 'multi' is the precursor to your direction
Have I lost direction?
Have I found the strange in my direction?
Though the range of the strange in my direction floats [?] like clutching the [?]
I am engulfed by the patience I lack to operate the knob turning the change stations
Yet I'm yearning to change stations
I am not strange
She had plans to follow my footprints that I left in duration sands, but the overwhelming wave crash of my emotion's ocean wash the path away
"How can I follow when they've washed the path away?" she screams
She wondered why the path now was only walked in her dreams
Am I too late?
Or is it too early to say?
See, where I stay, the walls close in, attempting to box in this poem but I can say at least she knows I am not strange
Well, is it strange that I-think-I-cans turn I-thought-I-coulds and the sun only shines when I sleep?
Yeah, it's strange that the sun only shines when I sleep
And I sleep now 'cause my shadow is cast on the sidewalk street from the sunshine
And pinholes trace my eyelids from the sunshine where darkness burns through as I sleep
I sleep on cloth-covered tables that rest on the backs of goblins that waken when my eyes close to snatch my dreams
They catch my dreams, thrown from its incubator where I hatch my dreams
I am not strange
For two and a half years I've been voluntarily locked in my locks as an old shoebox, airtight
The air might hold a key to each lock to be unlocked within myself as a task within itself
She seemed to notice the burial of my eyes into my breastplate
Not hidden, buried
Resting
I am not strange
Though the sun only shines when I sleep, I am not strange
The moon glows as it walks and talks with me
Hands clasp around my wrist, but every recap of this list insists
I am not strange
I am not strange
I am not
Strange