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
Substance
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
SELLS
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
Killer
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