Im writing a few thoughts
For my dude Charles
I first met you in school park
True art
You still love Sonic
Called you a blue dart
And you had more hustle than a pool shark
You was going by Free Lance when you battled me
I think I was your first lost when you challenged me
Before you was freestyling
You were spitting writtins
Lived in the Bronx use to always see you chillin
Wanted you on G.F.C in the beginning
But your mom was to strict, she ain’t see my vision
Charles, you ain’t never want to be a star
Plus your moms ain’t want you out performing songs
I gave a helping hand when I could give a lift
And had to tell my friends about this kid that spit
Who would tell his pen
How to script his wit
You loved Eminem
You loved Incubus
Dave Lighty called when you was in the group
Shout to Young Nate
It was him and you
I got MySpace messages in 06’
You invited me to gigs you would go rip
I never went, But I heard every show rip
And information was leaking like a nose drip
Lower East side
Pyramid
Lyricist
Couldn’t go Toe-To-Toe with that flow specialist
Went to check you at your studio in Harlem
In a high-school recording all the thoughts in your noggin
A week later you sent me “Shinin’”
That was 07’ when you was trying to figure out how your life went
I found out you was getting evicted, like you never existed
Your moms kicked you out like Jeff from the Fresh Prince
Homeless
Living in a studio
What a hell of a bed of affliction
I remember when you was Free Lance man
You had some bars
You said like
‘They call me Free Lance
I don’t write for the paper
But I write for the paper’
And you had sick sound like
‘Got more rocks
Than the Scorpion King and
And you could look at my hand
And tell im the Lord of the Rings’
Or something like that, man, like Change the game man
Need to get better and come back home baby

You had an addiction without a weed bag
And to the bidding war substituted rehab
DJ Skee had you on a track till the beats Crashed
And you Rapped with Ye’ and Game
No Dreamcast
We spoke over the phone about ‘Incredible’
You thought I dissed you though, it was incredible
I made that as sublime to show hate was a crime
I had beef with Wale at the time
On the phone you would say we were fine
Then you sent a shot at me without aiming a Nine
We did the BK Hip-Hop fest, that’s when you interviewed me
Truthfully, raps got kicked out like a truancy
I got the call about the cover
It felt weird seeing you take sides with Folarin and Cudder
But, was weirder to me that all three of us are cool now
Back then shit was to wild
Wow
Yo, when everybody was doubting you man
And I hit you up to make sure you were alright.You was like ‘The only people that have reached out was Kanye and Lu.’ nam’saying and me, na’mean’
You always gonna be my little brother man
No matter how much we argue and beef or whatever
It’s still love man

Member that Cypher at Sirius, Serious
That’s when your beef with Cory became Serious
Thought it was Soulja Boy and Rhymefest
I took it as a joke
Though what transpired next was crazy
Soulja Boy dissed you
When you responded it felt like Kats dismissed you
Serius battle was even crazier
Then you battled a fan
Everything was going tragically bad
Then I woke up one day
Saw you getting punched by your ex
Im glad you ain’t hit her back
But you should’ve shooked her ass
Either ducked if you could
But the past is the past
But then they said you stole that beat from Shinin
That was bad
And then you lied about Dilla and his moms
Detroit Goons wanted your life in harm
This was before Hex was in the chair
You couldn’t see clear
Then you disappeared
Left your fans eager
For something they could all hear
Dropped from the label
Battled Serius again
Where’s your guardian angel
Somebody you can pray too
You got arrested for hitting the cop reckless
We spoke on the phone you promised me to tell this
Any beef you though you had you want deaded
Told me to tell Wale and Blu it’s no beef
Even if we don’t speak
Life is to short
Like the men is 4 feet
I heard some new songs and damn they so deep
They even sound mixed
All City Chess got love for your shit
Bobby Ray says ‘What up, lets do some more hits.’
Known you for ten years
We never did a song
But this beat will be suffice till you come home
By the way
Your StarCHasers miss ya
They wish you get well
And think your off the Richter
I heard the song Pharell
Damn it so rugged
When you get out
No more drugs
No more buggin
No more wildin
Time to stay on track
And this is coming from your brother
Not Mickey Factz
And when I speak to Lupe
I tell him that you doing fine
Pal, call me when you get out
Get my number from Rhymestyle
Now Im out
Your fans miss you, b
Your supporters miss you
We miss you
Come back man
Get better

It’s Mickey!

Letter to Sonic

Yea