11.08.2010

for rs stay awkward forever

Preposterous monstrosity

From the depths of my past
Fried chicken capitalism conspiracy
Sacrifices resurrects the ghosts
Of ancestors who been freestyling with your fate

Feeling like the air is speaking right to you
Listen closely

Learn to fight fight to learn

Let the world rotate burn truth be sold
From what you can remember
Couldn’t afford the price
After worthily spending any amount of saving
Down to the pocket lint and the expired mint
That won’t refreshen the lesson far from

Planned the power within hands
Could relocate mountains right next to the projects
Where the experiment with closed spaces
Has made you reexamine the basis of your philosophy

Impossible how the battle for your conscience
Is between greedy angels and saintly demons

Breathing fire when you reject your hidden desires
You have yet to discover an antidote
That will cure your insatiatable hunger

Where are you running to so fast in place
When the finish line keep going further away

Your epiphany has surcharges
That will eventually be due before activating your account

Without a doubt your inspiration will fly south
Before your evidence heads north
Feeling back on the block
Though on the otherside of town

Whatchu talking about when there is no substance
Controlling the message
Before delivering the audience
You could rewind the replay
Won’t find what you left behind
Your definition been highly fuzzy
With only guesstimates
Of the guidelines to the ghetto

Whoever stands on the corner
Should have a fitted dunce cap
With engraved stitching showing your nickname

Your spit game only brings you nearer to the flame
Where your knowledge is easily disposable
Compose yourself with beautiful conduct

Whereas your abstract understanding
Has developed into concrete actions
That have deadly consequences that may revive

Redialed your regressions back to session
Where your freedom of speech equals freedom to dream

Often scheming instead of teaming
Where you so interested in seeming
not becoming fully human

Sincere integrity with severe levity
perhaps now is not the occasion for the fronting
if you care so much for the progression and elevation
please show me something

asi

Don’t nothing change just another year

Snaxx Playlist
Trying to add at least half

Go up in that mafucka and take whatever I want

Can’t shake the answer

If I did that I die with that cancer

Just another poison prescribed
Analyzed the dosage just hanging on to survive

Walk with the kitten’s addiction
As the mirror desk forces you
To examine the yearbook

Add up the change

How much of the planned revolution remains
Found poetry like moving the pieces along 64 squares
Of a chessboard how the bedroom switches with no sheets

Origins of gansta rap from mean streets
Where the beast hunt with hungry teeth

Though the inspiration be brief
Continuously seek minutes to delay satisfaction
The reaction has shaped
By the grouch right next to the dusty bandera bandana

To stunt anyways possible
In a land which seeks to keep you not breathing

In a hospital land vertical to regain senses
The spirit of the benches
Mind in trenches with body in state of flux

In seconds ticking spending bucks
On what would bring closer to heavenly oasis

All praises due don’t get it confused

Si sale bien llamame en la manana
Blink for resurrection of tomorrow
Pausa para la causa to purge
To the porcelain god

Looking at the Diablo flag around ankles
For freedom to get through the night

When the stars wish upon you
To motivate creating
Somehow someway to make it out
The hood one day

Pray to power in the final hour
No flowers in the garden
Like the earth stomach starving

Mobbing with heart throbbing
Sobbing on the page
Like words cry Bronx River
To flow into higher consciousness

Critical minded you been finding
Pieces of puzzle scattered
Until you unable to add up the data

Lines you outta but connect the dots
To scribble in the block

Love in the location
Where respect marks the low spot

Lessons learned with every step
Up and down the lane

Big parks where the ghosts
Of retired jerseys claimed
Hood glory and fame

Buncha doing nothing expecting something

Rubbing the fur the wrong way producing static
Shock to the system
When the volume too loud
Can hardly hear the lyrics

Ironically stating how much we getting it
When even the breeze feels hollow
Next day more of the same
Feet so long in that place
Sprouted roots gathered moss

Brush under doo rags to keep it wavy
But what would you find if you floss