The One

by Martin Malota

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lyrics

[Verse 1]
I was looking for someone to sign me, trying deeply to align speech,
Metaphors drawn on my palms, but never mind ink.
Without a pen or pad and small enough to have to use
A magnifying glass. I used a scalpel, slicing paragraphs.

That's when I had an epiphany - lyrical symphony
and with my own hands, I'd create history, literally
Creating my polyphony of victory, reading the scribes
I'd lie out, but then cried out, look what the fuck you did to me!

I'm all that I have until my time's past...
John Nash at the window, writing lyrics on the glass.
I'm thinking about the spirits from the past that arise
Under the guise of a poltergeist then open my eyes.

I hope I'm alive. It's MOLA1, I'm going to survive.
I hold my heart, chest beating, close to the other side.
And as this life draws close to close the human inside
Transforms into my spirit through a beautiful mind.


[Hook]
Even if the Earth stops spinning
And it burned in the end,
I know I never had to shelf my goals.
And living in this world that we're in
And every minute that we're in it,
No, I never had to sell my soul...
Cause I am The One.


[Verse 2]
I don't rap, I stop time and report my findings
In paragraph form. It's only a coincidence all of it's rhyming.
Observe words that preserve worth and file a verse
Miscellaneous first, until I make sense of the Earth.

The sentences blur, contort and form shapes. Shifting,
But somewhat staying in place...enough for me to trace
Lines that become faces I've met over time.
Rewind back until I find meaning behind the design.

A beautiful mind, eternally. The sunshine's burning me.
Turning me from my learning to yearning for me to murder beats.
If this is Hip-Hop, it's in style to jump off without regard
For where I end up, while others get lost.

I know exactly where I am subconsciously
Familiar to my surroundings, surrounding me
And found the beat to be the soundtrack to my birth, life and demise.
A requiem for a dream I've had, if I surmise.


[Hook]
Even if the Earth stops spinning
And it burned in the end,
I know I never had to shelf my goals.
And living in this world that we're in
And every minute that we're in it,
No, I never had to sell my soul...
Cause I am The One.


[Verse 3]
He wondered how it got so deep and had a penchant for showing
Penance by penning sentences about the streets.
And he'd go without his sleep...and on keep blazing the pad,
While the flames slapped wax on his hands.

He's on fire now and keeps his hand locked
Carpal tunnel outweighs his fear a writers block, the clock doesn't stop.
Every time a minute passes, he writes fast, as if it was his last
And in this case, the man had met his match.

He'd finally gone out of his mind...delved in to a form of
Consciousness through rhyme and he's convinced that he died.
But, he's invincible while, he writes his symphony, smiles
And thinks that this could be the time that he makes history now

He smells victory...how it spells trouble in all caps.
He loves it when the going gets rough and they fall back.
It never seems to be enough it sucks when they're all wack.
Mortals just combat and he laughs at what they call rap.

Though he's beyond that, the fact that he's on wax
Taking it to a plane where few could go and they crawl back
Is why he's at all actually giving his all
And it's no mystery his pissed off, when Detroit gets pissed on.

He's lived on the edge of insanity. In reality
He's not sure what's real or fake, besides friends and family.
He's got ties to Cali. He's from Detroit and after he takes over the game,
They'll recognize an Albanian. The One.


[Hook]
Even if the Earth stops spinning
And it burned in the end,
I know I never had to shelf my goals.
And living in this world that we're in
And every minute that we're in it,
No, I never had to sell my soul...
Cause I am The One.

credits

released September 15, 2013

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about

Martin Malota Detroit, Michigan

Martin Malota aka MOLA1 is a first generation Albanian American from Detroit, MI by way of Los Angeles, CA. His obsession with music began at the age of nine, when he turned to writing as a way to cope with the loss of his sister. With an obsession for perfecting his craft, Martin has had difficulty sharing his music...until now. ... more

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