Rebel Crowns 

Blocks, gats and raps 
ducking thirst traps 
kids, cats and raps, a new path 
Time had its hands around my neck 
claustrophobic breathe 
reflect on my gang days 
I was Flavor Flav with a 12 gauge 
masking the pain in a purple haze 
looking to get my art framed 
in the minds or galleries 
trading in the corner for salary 
which life was lived more valiantly? 
electricity at my fingertips like Palpatine 
paces stream free when your value’s freed 
speech feeds seeds, whether it’s lyrics 
or knowledge of the spirit 
most don’t have their words cherished 
until after they’re dead or perished 
its why I’m mic doc’n like Erick and Parrish 
dreaming of money in back packs 
floating through Paris earning my merit 
me and my daughter 
share the same wild crocodile smile 
keeping you a blade tip away from exile 
broken rhythms with women 
keeps filling up my ex files

Gateway Drug 

Bare my souls grace 
burn green to probe space post haste 
showin' God my smoke face 
stoned pain breaks the choke chain 
blown brain, toned bass, explode rage 
problematic ashes 
burn your house of cards 
to expose the magic, tapped in 
the 2nd Latin rapper 
to leave your skull baffled 
bones shattered, automatic closed casket 
fast lane, I've blown past it with no manners
broke bastard to so lavish 
toed tragic, exposed passage 
radiated flow savage, fantastic damage 
pragmatic cult classic 
toe taggin' stolen masses 
spit gasses, soaking matches 
when hope passes 
til then I'm killin' masters with chrome hammers

Notebook Sickness  

Down a couple of shots and beers 
fear liquidates my tears 
what am I doing here? 
should I be armed to the teeth, warfare

dreams remove evidence of elements 
that protected youthful resemblance

reminisce about the decade of decadents

sick of riding the bench 

next to the stench of death 
this is my last hit, short of breath 
paranoia extorts cops hunting for sport 
another pull off the Newport 
societies reflection is fact that doom implores 
what you think the movements for? 
distort dissection of past transgressions

cap aggression Smith and Wesson 
packed with lessons 
genocide always intended 
swept under the rug no mention 
unless levied as leverage 
jettison political medicine 
devastation, end game declaration 
final move cultural castration

Grown Up Rap 

I’m broken, damaged 
rocking Sean P the savage 
pen ink the automatic package 
distracted from empty fridges 
mental sickness reaching all types of frigid 
sleep with sinners fight the emotional winter 
cold broke, no soap, roaches, rats, 
dead love, ducking lead slugs 
off with my head 
Wastelands back from the dead 
rewind selector, lyrics measured 
born from conjecture 
cock the the lever 
bullet to your dentures, unpause the rebel 
my life is mental film stock, dead stock 
America First code for oppression 
protesting in the streets disconnected 
hands up don’t shoot 
I can’t breathe either 
watching these pigs kill off American dreamers


I awoke from a winter slumber 
waiting on my ticket to hell’s hot summer 
pen with the hustle of gunners 
swing the lumber 
and watch the fear of god man handle you 
illustrate the violence from my mandible 
for sinners sake 
put the content of my mind on a dinner plate 
watch the world eat it up 
like Hannibal the cannibal 
shots cracking your clavicle, so masterful 
pictures painted from anguish 
makin’ my language nickel plated 
look in the mirror 
filled with anger and hatred 
testing my patience 
my arrogance is so blatant 
Windy City in my blood 
lovin’ my cadence 
get out of my business 
unless you’re running with payments 
I’m so shameless

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