9.11.2010

stay away from that poison

Fruit Punch 4Loco
Everybody got their own motivation
Choose carefully
The weapon to get your enemies shaking
Awakening from unrealistic
Not so simplistic intricate quasars
Capture your pulsar
Leave you rapid
In the vacant shade all the same cages
All so amazing how the occasions evaporated
What’s once sacred becomes befouled
Out the game resting overtime put in work
But the team outta the tournament
Every now and then bent to a different direction
More progression leaves less stressing
Infinite ways you can go loco
How can you cope
With the mechanisms of the system
Leaving you in critical condition
Confined to the chair almost electric
Has you skeptic on the hood’s health statistics
There’s a natural mystic blowing through the air
Trapped in project stairs prowled by predators
For upward mobility
Your capability surpasses your IQ
Have many Clue? tapes but won’t ask a question
Profession of every session experience
You couldn’t fathom the sheer amount
Of examining the extinction agenda
While right in the center of reflection
From the inception you came out guessing
Wondering if this is where I need to be
Free is you in the backyard
Still trying to hit something over the fences
You still huddled right by the benches
Running away from the demons
Usain Bolt was a Nuyorican reaching
Higher levels of speed through
Where you ain’t searching
No more somewhere else more positive
Tell em you gotta live
Project the image you want captured
In the rapture of revelry
You finally stepping outside
To get right back internal
How many of those rainy cloudy moments
Remembered in journals
Dusty like underneath the bed
Bouncing off four walls
Still hear the calls when it all falls down
Realness makes you recover
As you hover through how sanctified
The sacrifice of sudden appearances have been
Lessons never learned in classrooms
More like gatherings by the chessboards
Flowerpots low cribs backpark under full moons
Each trying to scramble to the next morning
Where the floor screams
How much not giving a fuck has done damage
Hope that greasy food can cure hangover
Know that each second ticking
We getting older
Far from over turning the page to the next shit
Circle quickest way home trying to collect
Inspiration from the quiet riot
Of rhythm recalculating the path
Leading you to this point
Where you are still hunting
Accept the future you are wanting

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