Rapping for Change - Accent, Juliana Daily

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