Mic Righteous The Pen Lyrics

Call this a test?
Lets see who's the sharpest tool in the shed,
Call this a test?
Huh

Hey yo I used to be a pebble held in the hand of an African,
Part of the first tribe that carved artistic patterns,
On a rock of flint, they grate my solid skin against the cave,
These are my roots, now your youth use me at playschool,
I've writ tales, been held, by a slave in Israel,
Felt the sweat on their palm, wet my thick shell,
I put the pictures on the pyramids,
Painted on papyrus with heiroglyphics I'm what the Egyptians they wrote the scriptures with,
When evolution took place, my ancestors grew wings,
I write for Mozart he held me tight for rap music,
We produced a beautiful picture of passion that was moving,
Deep symphonies, without me, there'd be no history,
I'm seen in literacy I seal the deals I wrote the rules I mean literally,
You're tears are into me,
I'm a rappers best friend but I can be your worst enemy,
When you sign the deal for devil jam you done sold your soul to the industry,
What you consider a real MC, I give them the ability,
Take the words from out their mouths and put it on the paper lyrically,
I writ for vivid imagery ain't no one as sick as me,
The missing piece, to your rhyme pad,
I've been held in Hitler's right hand,
He stone cold eyes cried when he wrote Mein Kampf,
I sealed the deal handing over the Rhineland,
Take me in your hand you'll have to guide me like a blind man,
I wrote the government's secret book of society, if I could speak,
I'd expose the truth behind the lies the fiends,
I ever know every secret you're keeping in your diary,
Your tears are inside of me so lead the way and write with me, I was born in a factory, with all of my family,
From there we're seperated into the hands of humanity,
I could be in the bottom of a poltician's pocket,
The paper is my partner, without it I'm nothing,
I've been held by great leaders and freedom fighters and righteous men,
A prophet came with his teachings and then I write from right to left,
The author of the Quran, the holy book of Islam,
Before you read it pour water on your forearm,
But the Psalms in the Bible,
Still I find myself in the hands of a grown man with no plans signing a Jiro,
I cry when I write poems, Microsoft is knocking me,
Everybodys got a laptop, what you forgot of me!?
I give a poor man property money to live properly,
You turn your back on me you're in the lottery because of me,
I wrote a letter for a kid that never could spell,
Who's brothers in a cell, waiting for in letter in jail,
I write the will when you inherit the wealth,
I write the details on every cheque you get in the mail,
I writ the final words of a man that had nothing so he deaded himself,
Before he done it he wrote a letter he left on the shelf,
The neighbours phoned the council told them about an unbearable smell,
And when the council went in the house the neighbours went in aswell,
They found him hanging from the bannister his head had gone pale,
They read the letter and it said 'why didn't anyone help?',
I've told you, over and over I ain't mentally well,
And I'd rather exist in hell than live in this terrible world,
You see me, I writ the tales of a thousands fools,
Cause I'm the pen, the world's most powerful tool.