Through the mirror is how we met.

Don’t know how, but you got in my head.

You stayed for a bit and we talked, had fun.

These days the creative chaos is how things are run.

Your thoughts are new, your flow is tight.

In your mind, is a writer's paradise.

Songs that sing, raps that form, in your mind, they have a home,

No one has told you, but you're a rabbit hole.

Because inside you, new things unfold.

Creative, Chaotic, Picturesque, and more.

All you need to do is soar.

On those wings you don’t know you have,

just keep flying, even when it’s bad.

You have a gift, you know it’s true,

just embrace the things around you.

“Death to the radio”

That’s all you, wrapping your heart in the lyrics you do.

Your a rapper, a writer, a singer, a star.

But really you’re an artist by far.

Artistry is a mystery, through and through.

But you’ve mastered the golden rule: be true to you.

Don’t worry about things you can't control,

because in the end it’s just lyric for something yet to be told.

You are the writer, the master of the page, people aren’t on your level.

You’re ahead of the game.  

Speaking of a game, what is life if not that?

We’re surrounded by truth, reason, and fact.

Of course then we’re different, because what is truth?

As the writer it’s completely up to you.

I’ll blast your shit on my stereo, but we know how it goes.

In a writer’s mind, is lots to see, but how will they know if we don't believe.

We are they key to what could be, but for right now we just need to see.

The difference in black and white that turn to gray.

After all it’s still a game.

Despite it all you’re still in the lead, so don't let the little things trip you up.

You’re an artist, that much is true, I have enjoyed collaborating with you.

Through the mirror is how we met.

Don’t know how, but you got in my head.

Creative Chaos is how we stayed true.

Never doubt yourself, because I don't doubt you.