Rich Sinners 

Started moving weed in the 10th grade 
to create my own legendary template 
flirted with the drug game 
when the homies said I’m next 
time to graduate to the Pyrex 
scared to move up from the dime flex 
after pushing a key under sunny days 
moving plenty ways after copping 20k 
riding the money wave 
burn the wire as the pinnacle of sires 
and I ain’t talking about God or Jesus 
Vice Lords riding coupes on leases 
packing heaters dodging felonies 
and misdemeanors 
became a different dreamer 
when I got locked 
during the summer of Ether 
fucking hood rats rocking Jordan’s and Fila's 


Frolic in the depths of knowledge 
the clock is the heart of life 
thinking mundane as seconds tick through one vein 
minutes are blood flowing one way 
emotions stab at my watch 
now I got nothing but time on my hands 
bland lifestyles turn heads toward the promise land 
media used as contraband 
children running the streets in undergarments 
immigrants struggle with the dollar 
getting the American dream started working as INS targets 
while their sons move weed, dodging misdemeanor charges 
martyred militants claiming I God 
making me guilty of spiritual conviction 
visions of guns with violent motion 
followed by coffins locked and closed in 
hugs and roses, drugs in heavy doses 
blunts roasting when memories are toasted 
done choking, lying to my own psychosis 
emerging from the smoke uncloaked 
with my pen as the staff of Moses 
hoping to free loved ones to live life the way destiny wrote it 
beyond the way history told it, molded from Augury’s omens 
caught in Lucifer's notion, birthed in pyramids 
underneath each brick is 26 alpha numerics
words of wisdom glitch in the system, uncaged from the matrix 
my physical still held down by gravity 
making me a victim of my own tragedies 
constantly attacking the man in me

If my thoughts were beings on other planets 
engaged in Star Wars, claiming Vice Lord 
would they throw up endorphins? 
took the game and morphed it 
with resident evil kneivel cerebral cortex 
sold my way to drop top Porsche’s 
Seasons Change got 5 mics in The Source and 
I got women with breasts perky and gorgeous like Halle Berry in Swordfish calling me papi 
triple platinum probably, this song features Ja Rule and Ashanti 
my fan base just multiples then 
getting your undivided attention was my intention 
fuck the previously mentioned, birth earth lessons 
banging straight out the box like vaginal prosthetics 
focus shifts to scribing a magnum opus with such magnum force 
I’m forced back to the closet rocking back and forth 
eating strange fruit with the spirit of Aaliyah 
telling me my soulmate is more than a woman 
moving to a glimmer of suicide in my left eye 
if I used a 45 to blow my own mind 
would I be amongst the greatest of all time 
transforming optimum rhymes to collide with Optimus Prime 
making me a semi truck, speak divine righteousness it exists in my lungs 
money stuns the populous into dicking over god 
like a hermaphrodite Israelite masturbating in the face of Christ 
what I write is a danger to my group, soon to go solo 
a living version of Public Enemy’s logo 
combat politics more crooked than Debo’s eye 
making the system collapse quicker than Hank Gathers at the half court line

Strung Out 

Once commanded a literal understanding 
of commandment tablets and Quran fragments 
making my mathematics tantric 
wasn’t baptized so I couldn’t claim Christ as the savior of my life 
hated the fact he turned water into wine 
because wine became water to my father 
He beat me, my brother and my grandmother’s daughter 
as he led his lambs to the slaughter 
three souls drowned in the thoughts of the brain washer 
making it harder to believe Heaven was branded beyond the granite 
church made me pay to search for the creator of earth 
they turned religion into a system of pimpin’ 
watching angels back handing planets knocking my world off it’s axis 
true meanings unmasked 
teachings we believe in written by a drunken heathen 
known as the king of England 
plights of Israelites partially removed due to so-called moments of clarity 
now known as Hebrews we knew only to seize the moment 
making anything before us ancient, the future adjacent 
complacent with struggles of previous generations 
denying the enslavement of entire populations 
Black men confined to join a nation 
telling me god is a fragment of my imagination 
because the man who created him was pagan, lacking pigmentation 
millions became Malcolm Little reading behind dictionary pages 
spiritualization treated as pussy so we could face it 
still I’m Max from Pi, drilling holes in my brain 
to relieve frustration of not deciphering 216 character equations

Black Monday 

Rap went commercial 
when will it return to program? 
nomads become cliche within themselves 
as more become product on the shelves 
I lay between urban decay and suburbia 
society giving my mind a hernia 
troubled youth shackled by George W 
so I smuggle truth into entertainment 
the battle for my allegiance 
began when my bloodline was pillaged by Spaniards, who’s my savior? 
eyed by enemies a genetic failure 
inches from inquisition 
commissioned to seek retribution for the movement 
until Ras’ tooth pick is saluted 
diluted brainwaves become seismic 
enriched with stolen jewels of Osiris 
snatched off the belt of Orion 
I emerged on the horizon 
resting on the dark side of the sun 
came with 4 Horsemen disguised as Nimrods portrait 
birthed dormant in the earth’s uterus 
moving through universes with verses to versus 
the version of the person I am and will be 
photograph my shadow, I’m still me 
kill me by electric chair on a Friday 
mourn me on a Saturday 
bury me under moonlight on a Sunday 
all because 6/18/79 was a Black Monday


Push beyond 3rd millennium 
triple optic adamantium, ink 5th pentium 
dream theme music, bent on dominance 
30lb magnets amplify my subconscious mind 
baptized in stigmata’s bloodline 
selling my spritualization, education, lyricism , liberation 
which was a mixture of alcohol and a naive fifteen year old 
don’t hold dicks like a lesbian chick who can’t make a fist 
lip balms, spit psalms as blood drips from my slit palms 
cut with the sword of Islam 
so my genetic code is told through every musical mold 
men trading products of their semen to keep their pockets creamin’ 
death for treason, forever speaking artistic languages 
voice of slaves shackled in chains and whips 
yet the same chase chains and whips 
cane and chips, fame and tits 
what part of the game is this? 
all the dick of Pac and Big 
what, you forgot about Ra and KRS dismantling ample men 
before Jay and Nas started batting? 
been sniffing too much Ether 
wish I could marry wack MC’s 
so I become a wife beater 
waking hip hop from its epileptic seizure

God Save Us From The Devil  

God body in the human spirit 
altercations and penning lyrics made you fearless 
pain and anger love to be your muse 
bullet riddled bodies still in view 
frustration and hatred in the queue, let it stew 
your city’s dying, what to do? 
gold plated dreams and dirty faith 
dapping up friends with empty face 
kids disappear without a trace 
I’m supposed to wait for the Bible quote to save the day, let us pray what a waste 
drowning in the chase screaming into space leaning into taste 
heathens in their place, demons in my face 
Jesus on the case 
easing on the weight rolling off my back 
holding on the mask, exposing all the mass 
trolling off the tracks, floating through the cracks 
frozen all the rats, posing in the traps 
closed in heart attacks, popping off the gats 
holding off the threats, walking on the net 
closing off my breath 
oppression architects cashing all the checks 
the devils silhouette 
please release the rest 
therein lies the fucking disconnect


I don’t cry when cops die 
but you never ask why 
blue lives matter is a lie 
another sign of oppression 
disconnected from protection and service 
blue lights still make me nervous 
is this going to be my last breath 
sick of black death 
and the same old stories 
turned into blood orgies 
a bullet in our head, now you’re sorry 
all of sudden it’s some sort of allegory 
stuck in the doesn’t happen category 
if I show resistance 
I’m complicit in non compliance 
deserving of the violence 
it ain’t science 
cops exercise their right 
to keep us silent 
they wonder why we riot 
we’re dying on this non freedom diet 
White America wouldn’t dare try it 
now you know why I’m crying 
grieving for lost souls 
in nightmares underneath my eyelids

Live From Inner Thought 

Sometimes I just want to 
do drugs and drink 
it's too hard to think 
madness on the brink 
the missing link 
skeletons emerge from the closet 
brain celibate dancing the devils mosh pit 
John Malkovich with a gun to my head 
in the cockpit 
counting down the clock ticks 
rain pours to wash away the toxins 
not knowing who God is 
grew up catholic chilling with convicts 
learning the block pitch 
dealers cutting up the drop ship 
definition of context 
money knots swelling up my pockets 
running from the darkness 
bullet proof dodging the glock kiss 
38 in the game of life still a novice 
verbalizing my written correspondence 
live from inner thought 
dead man walking amongst lost prophets 
backed in a corner running out of options

Origin Stories 

As the seasons changed 
so did my bastard frame 
began to masquerade the pain 
packed a faster blade 
for a long time death was certified 
never afraid to die, life verses time 
love had me blind 
written lines traveling the blue skies 
survived a summertime of lies 
reborn in the winter wars 
return to the trenches 
with Ghostface rifles in the kitchen 
freestyle sessions with my henchmen 
penning more bars than a prison sentence 
had me disconnected from this dimension 
at the mere mention 
of hitting astral planes, flame your brain 
hit the stage, taste of fame 
bag the change, bang the cage 
went from heartbroken to rap monster 
where I’m from, you talk shit 
we hit you with the pistol opera

BBQ & Chaos 

I’m indelible sworn 
born from the fire that burned slow 
untouchable within my Company Flow 
load the chamber when my money gets low 
stone cold existence 
pain bleeds from the pen 
watch my soul get christened 
deadlights glisten, shot of adrenaline 
Pennywise specimen, shape shift acumen 
the first cuts accurate 
Rob Sonic Plaster Man 
Mr. Magic rap attack 
came up with bboys selling gats and crack 
out the backs of Cadillacs 
rehash the battle axe 
cooking up bbq and chaos 
98 Jordan in the playoffs 
Oz’s in paint cans 
selling hydroponic to white girls with spray tans 
smack the shit out of you 
like Sean Price adlibs on playback