They say I'm too old for this rap shit 
I'm just here to bring some balance to your actions 
went from stashing semi automatics underneath my mattress 
to under ground champion 
gangsta rap lit 
punishing you with bully rap clicks 
memory lane induces bad trips 
find salvation in the classics 
exit pain stage left, stay fresh, pray less but me and God still on a first name basis 
can see it on the prettiest of faces 
dedicated to the homies catching cases 
caged in the metal matrix 
you're in my graces on these pages 
without you I wouldn't have a chance to make it 
shape shift, spray clips 
weight lift the world off my shoulders 
give Destiny something to be proud of as she gets older 
money folder, surrounded by coffins and toasters 
name in lights, signing posters 
living life how I'm supposed to 
cinematic vision, not in the material sense 
but in the literal sense 
to have my spiritual blessed 

From Last Sons Album, Chekov's Gun

Happy new year depression 
it’s just me and you again 
finding new ways to explore the connection 
generosity what is it? 
is it mom cooking for strangers in the kitchen? 
is it one day without pain and sickness?
fighting to survive the new version of mankind 
working full time struggling to pay my bills, popping pills, faith kills 
went from heavy thinker to heavy drinker 
once again on the brink of suicide 
darkness paints realms inside my mind 
violent by design unless I find something to supplement my next high 
fighting time, struggling to stay alive 
back to the point I don’t believe there’s a god 
don’t you think that’s kind of odd 
since I’ve spent years talking about the strength of our bond? 
gone baby gone is the illusion of freedom of expression 
making America great again 
through systematic oppression 
arrogance stopped us from taking heed to previous lessons 
ostrich heads buried in the sand 
until the epidemic scurried in the hands of those not affected 
murders of my people where considered clandestine 
until cellphones popped the pandemic 
finally did America believe these klans meant it 
generations lusting off the blood fetish 
cultural appropriation took away our one weapon 
well, I got my guns loaded come get it 
let the bullets fly 
I love my people, bear witness 
I won’t stop until we’re cured of the sickness 
and the oppressors recognize our image

Chicago Bullish 
tattooed in the name of Chicago bullets 
Chicago ruthless 
blood stained with Gods aim 
disdain for Gods name 
display my inner Gods pain 
for Gods sake 
who does God thank 
when the winds of change reign 
forcing my face an odd blank 
I walk this odd plank 
screaming at the skies 
with Gods rage 
turn with Gods page 
pray where God lays 
played in Gods day 
happy in plans God laid 
tapping into Gods vein 
smoking out Gods strain 
using faith to act out Gods play 
it all works out in Gods way 
praise to Yawah 
live from the inferno of Dante

Summon the many arms of Vishnu
to illustrate what I been through
born from a crippled stencil
automated Denku tenchu
walk with so much end view
people ask which God sent you
world’s built on penciled lectures
submerged in clockwork textures
so the masses don’t forget you
words Ginsu stick you
to the point the hands of fate won’t stitch you
mutilated cuts over Nasa’s instrumental temper
the previously expressed views represent Fuze 
anything else is a flagrant fuck you
like when El Producto was shakin’ Russell
or when Kimora was takin’ Russell’s pape and hustle
suck it ride ride the snake head muscle
in IPod’s I’m God
uncivilized like Jews scribin’ Muhammad’s face in krylon
eating pigs in eye shot
rockin’ Mein Kamph
screamin’ my God this is what I’m on
from the top of Mt. Zion
battling Jesus Christ and Dylon draped in Izod
cross the pylon 7 points
like when 85 percent find God
my career won’t be defined by nine shots
lifter of gall to elevate a brawl
will the gangsters pop off?
Naw I don’t think they got the balls
bullet casings tappin’ your jaw
until my thumb compresses gun powder into your skull
defying physical law leaving onlookers in awe 

I speak through revelations of man
to withstand the pressure of granite and sand
stained glass cuts the prophets hand
blood becomes toxic dislodging DNA strands
turnin’ Yaway to man
and for a moment my soul was hemoglobin
stolen where the remedies to destroy mythological enemies
which became amenities to put men at ease
then turn around and make the word of God an obscenity
makin’ the planet a universal centerpiece for sinful pedigrees
humanity rock carves, the rock starves
my shadow has no choice but to lounge under dog stars
waiting to shed some light on my insight
shove a knife through my eye socket
so my mind gets the point
anoint the circumference of world a perfect circle
summoning enough inertia to bring down
three dimensional sunspots to burn you
with no where to turn to
your views blistered in discontent during winter
like homeless alcoholics juggling bursting vodka bottles over exposed livers
shiver at the thought of normality
the heavens patterned me at the peak mastery
in kings majesty making my earth eclectic
birthing my music soul child
somewhere between the gangsta era and Afro centric

Dear journal my outlook has become nocturnal
with nothing to turn to spiritualism is segregated
wondering if the entrance to heaven is gated
or is inner peace exaggerated?
walkin’ with castrated brain matter
calculating deaths data into physical matter
wanting it the moment after
masqueraded declaration of struggle
secreted from amniotic muscle
vaginal walls begin to crumble
giving my eyes something to sun to
words of expression are muffled from artistic hustle
as the power of God comes through
the world just assumes then deducts you
while previous beliefs you’ve run to shun you 
minuscule ridicule is burden of genius
in my dreamin’ I team with demons
to slap the be Jesus out Christ
with the might of mankind
to give him insight on what its like
to live a life inside his light
falling off the pedestal
readies you to be tailored for failure through anger
then turn around and praise her
for favors from the saviors you’ve already alienated
not realizing you’ve cut off your ears to think in silence
close your eyes and see the world the way God designed it 

I’ve blown out the 24th candle on my birthday cake
to calculate the weight of mistakes
made against the world that ain’t
riding the faint taste of fate
as happiness escapes each time my heart palpitates
scowl in amazement at the smiling faces
that strayed from my graces on my training day
applaud change but I’m afraid
I’ve missed my opportunity to gain a leg on the human race
tainted pages paced with patience
parallel with endangered statements
paraded by abrasive language
ending the novel idea/ that I’m a descendant of Pangaea
I see a beacon of glimmer
as holy water simmers in sinners
as scriptured pictures become what my life is framed in
I walk in a misshapen body
oddly enough my tear ducts/ scream I don’t give a fuck
tears of joy deploy for a boy who’s become a man
has yet to understand God’s plan
that was predated when his soul took a vacation in the physical Matrix
and got caged in my hope floats

I awoke somewhere between the war of ambition
teetering on the line of fact and fiction
getting burned by the friction
of self savior and victim
enriched with not so God like decisions
birthed within the laws written
plagued by the infinite question
whether religion is a creation of God?
or is God a creation of religion?
to keep us livin’ in the perforated image
christened in our own obsession and sickness
pushin’ the limits conjured by existence
life is a game of inches
but its hard to move forward
when you lack the vision
to judge the distance to the finish
a dishwasher in Hell’s kitchen
drowning in black holes
once covered by my burned bridges
walk a mile in my shoes
if my angels permit it
consumed by daily pace
getting a leg up in the human race
do my features still describe a human face?
capable of human grace?
wondering if I put my heart again
will there be someone who takes?
chase my convictions of spiritualism
didn’t inherit my fathers alcoholism
but I got his rage and pain
coursing through my veins
his muted traits is what my music makes
hold it back and let my dreams react
to the ghost of the man in black 

Open time, open door
open mind, open sore
open scheme, broken dreams
broken breathe, don’t feed the machine

This one goes out to my biological father
who didn’t bother after takin’ my mother to the alter
sought to destroy his creations
pushing women to devastation
forcin’ them to touch elevation
rethinkin’ the scope of the presentation
separation all in a blink
lost soul in the drink reflect in the sink
oldest son on the brink of drugs and jewelry
back then that’s what suited me
listeners will understand if they knew
how the hunger pain were doing me
I thought weed, sneakers and women
were the proof of me
til friends were murdered brutally
bullet wounds shook in me
that the hand of God wasn’t movin’ me
now I’m cruisin’ streets with my grandmothers wisdom
she said not to be a victim of the system
be the voice of the people
shine the worded image on their sickness
show the children there’s more to life
than hustlin’ in front of buildings
there’s lots of things in the world that can kill them
that the world can build them
if they let go the feeling of the ceiling
and bring a difference element
with my last will and testament
this ones dedicated to my wastelands brethren
I’m sorry our music didn’t do a better job to better men
I guess the world wasn’t ready to take the medicine

Welcome my world how to begin it?
limped into Nasa labs on a mission to quiet the cynics
overhaulin’ my life from a distance
civilence mic check one, two
couldn’t walk in God’s shoes even if I want to
its not that I don’t love you
its just I got another place to run to
giving pain the old run through
ask yourself this
what if your heart pumped you
full of women’s indignants
or watching your best friend
get overcome by addiction
then not giving the message of his sickness
then witness his younger sister
get imprisoned by promises of wedding kisses
mixing love for good dickin’
then herself turn to syringes
while the world says good riddance
no rest for the wicked
ever since I made the decision
to wrap my five digits around a pistol
made my final wishes cursed a couple bitches
squeezed the trigger
awoke alive as the voice of the underprivileged
ever since a Cannibal Ox told me to scream Phoenix
surrounded by pigeons fighting for crumbs and inches
protected by God’s vision
the peoples fist has arisen

Today pain placed a number on the age of innocence
I died a little inside when hardcore went impotent
bags under my eyes indifferent to images
of my grandmother injecting insulin
or havin’ to find my friend overdosed on heroin
for the sake of keepin’ this conversation spirited
why was life so hard
when I had to pull the needle from his arm?
wanted time to restart
when I had to call his wife
to tell her life changed
all because he found that vein
too selfish and vain to explain to his kids
he had no will to live
it’s shit like this that makes me want to reattempt
to put a bullet between my lips and french kiss death
what do I got to miss?
heaven won’t even tell me she loves me
the greatest love to never happen
heart broken in fragments
dead with passion my reaction
why won’t the hand of God touch me?
why does the devil try and fuck me?
I guess I’m what happened to ugly

Spirits of dead friends walk in the rain
soul rage paints with blood of the slain
8 blunts of flame straight to the brain
bounce in and out of sane
tryin’ to embrace 99 names
shaking the angst of deception
fallen friends, injections
time tested aggression
buried within the shadow of the half moon crescent
all I’m left with is the curse of God
oh God, I’ve cursed God
God damn it I hate this planet
and the fact I’ve taken my life for granted
while the rich allow the poor to to be stagnate
my spiritual conviction inches me closer
to believe love is wicked
hum du allah, pushed into the arms of a broken star
when the sun filled that void
while the dark side of moon left me destroyed
bring on the ‘noid heard a voice ask me
if I’m friends with God
or friends with Satan
It depends upon the situation
my dreams flip through pages of anguish
cleansed with wisdom of the ancient
chasing the life force that loves me
til then I ask what happen to ugly

106 DEGREE HEAT INDEX
DROWNING IN A SEA OF MENTAL IMPOTENCE
I GUESS IGNORANCE IS BLISS
WAITING FOR THE SWITCH
PECKED ON THE CHEEK BY FATES PERFECT KISS
MY INDENTS ARE STIFF
AT THE END OF MY ROPE
RATHER BE RESPECTED AND BROKE
THAN THE BUTT OF A JOKE
HOLDING ON TO HOPE
THAT I FIND MY PLACE IN HISTORY
LOOKING TO GOD TO CURE MY MISERY
BUT HE HASN’T BEEN A FRIEND OF ME
SINCE I LEFT JESUS STANDING AT THE MEZZANINE AT 16
KARMA STEPPED IN TO INTERVENE
AND COMPLETELY CHANGED THE WAY THAT I REACH
THE WAY THAT I BLEED
THE WAY THAT I TEACH
MY HATRED CAN BE FOUND IN THE PAIN THAT I SPEAK
AND THE RAGE THAT I PREACH
SPACE HOLDS THE KEY
TO THE PRAISE THAT I SEEK
THESE ARE THE DAYS THAT I LEAVE BEHIND
TRAPPED IN TIME
GIVING SIGHT TO THE BLIND
WHILE FIGURING OUT MY OWN DESIGN
WONDERING IF I SUFFER FROM THE SAME AFFLICTION
AS MY FRIENDS WHO FELL TO ADDICTION
MARIJUANA AND PILLS CHANGE MY POSITION
CLOUDING MY VISION
FORCING ME TO SLEEP WITH ONE EYE OPEN
UNABLE TO FOCUS ON MY FRACTURED REALITY
WAITING ON LOBOTOMY AND TOXICOLOGY
TO TOUCH OTHER GALAXIES PROVING VALIDATION
FOR MY VERBAL MASTERY
SCREAMING FUCK THE UNIVERSE
FOR ALWAYS HARASSING ME

I REFLECT ON THE DAYS SPENT
FREESTYLING TO MYSELF ON THE PARK BENCH
CRAFTING MY WORDS TO BECOME A MARKSMAN
LEARNING TO HARNESS THE POWER I WAS GIVEN
WATCHING PENS AND PENCILS STIFFEN
TURNING INSTRUMENTALS TO LIQUID
LETTING THE WORLD KNOW ABOUT MY SICKNESS
PUTTING ON A MASK
LIKE DOOM AND STANLEY IPKISS
TO PROTECT MY PSYCHE AND FRAGILE IMAGE/
FRONTING OFF LIKE I WAS LIVING
DEEP DOWN I KNEW/ THE HEAVENS WERE LIVID
BECAUSE I TOOK UP RESIDENCE IN HELL’S KITCHEN
ONLY THE DEVILS LIPSTICK PROMISED TO FIX
THE FRUSTRATION I LIMP WITH WITH THE QUICKNESS
SOMETIMES YOU GOTTA LIVE INDIGNANT
TO APPRECIATE THE FEELING OF SUFFOCATION
POLLINATION, ELATION, ELEVATION
EMOTIONAL SCARS WORN AS MEDALS OF DECLARATION
BRING ON THAT NUMB SENSATION, HIBERNATION

From Save The Horn

Don’t let ‘em push the button cousin
who let the dusted gluttons in the function?
this ones dedicated to the baby boomers
daily gloomers who maneuver through the future
with scalpel and suture gettin’ the world wide open
takin’ back the stolen notions that
there’s no hope for the hopeless
while the soulless steal our token
forcing us to roast the potent
pour the Molsen holdin’ our emotions
while they steal the word from the pulpit
ignoring the fact the globe is more corrosive
focus, chokin’ on nuclear wind
back then when me and Stukin the kid
where boozin’ the gin, cruisin’ for chicks
not realizing sin was the movement within
penning anthems for the masses
bringing forth this classic
unleashing the magic of the manical ox
who unlocked the lock that my mandible got
birthing my own radical rock
letting go of fanatical plots
I’m going down in a blaze of shots
rot in eyes of judge and jury
feeling my berserker fury

Soul unrested my minds infested
with other peoples questions
I’ve never taken the time
to relieve my own tension
open up my thoughts and find
where the scars are impressed in
how does it make you feel
you don’t know the reasons
for your best friends lessons?
where there’s pain you find the connection
what about that little girl
you tried to give the world?
hope you didn’t mess up her vision of life
by putting your heart where she isn’t
regret getting her name
tatted on your wrist yet?
it’s being a father figure from a distance
it’s unfortunate you can’t live through intention
happy birthday baby, maybe one day
you’ll understand what you been through
when you feel sadness
that’s the Devil trying to get you
remember I’m always with you
til then I’m an empty seed
left with my heart for a skeleton key

From After Years Of Television