Self Titled

I walk around like I still have a bullet encased in my chest

As I looked around I began to notice I’m nothing like the rest

The conversation has started and so has my test as the man of an hour

Used verbs loosely like a slip knot but now my rhymes are stone sour

Looking for more respect, more money and more power
It’s nice to meet you too but…

I wasn’t a born sinner and neither were you

I grew up watching blues clues in private schools oblivious to the rules of the hard knock life

Somebody once told me they’d eat me up, but now I’ve got a pot belly to display my strife learning in a white paradise
But I’m on my way to having a trophy wife, smoking a pipe dumping ashes on your plight, to display my delight

I may not go to hell but the devil is going to set me on fire, but I bet I can match his flames and I already trumped his desire

Pills made me do stupid things, in search of flings playing a misguided youth  

Times we didn’t have electricity and my landlord didn’t throw us out

It’s a blessing that we are still under this roof

And it’s a blessing to be part of this conglomerate, you guys are hot like the bombs I spit and the adjectives I shout 
Now I speak my clout and the devil has me here to be sincere when my disses go through your ears 
My fears don’t coincide with your lies, hopes and fears

I used to wipe away my tears with a switchblade, now I’m getting paid channeling prophecies of a rendezvous to Dade 
Underplayed in the game, underlaid but that will change with a little fame 
Shall I stay sane, hardly

As I stumble down the stairs and my veins take speedballs worse then Chris Farley

No i spit speedballs with a side of Parsley 
Burning Ferraris high as fuck on life, stay away from drugs but I don’t rule out the hashish pipe

I go star slight in a park fight and now I’m bed shaped getting my nose shaped
To flex my muscles in front of this crowd with my mouth taped

To prove a point without saying a damn thing

Anthony Day Grandin, that has a decent ring

 

 

 

 Imageoem, 

Writer’s Block

Writers block is an affliction, i voyaged downstream to conflict my addiction. I dropped it like a bad habit, i blended animation with reality like Roger Rabbit, then threw in animosity to be emphatic. The writers block kept me in a straightjacket, humming a tune. He’d feed me once in a blue moon.

So i sat in the corner, creating a masterpiece in my head. The block struck my idea dead, and i cried for hours, i heard the ringing of the aecidic showers. The depressed apologist in the shadow of a high tower. I saw no flowers, or any beauty, my brain fought back but the block forced mutiny. I observed the waves of social regimes, i watched as the upper echelon prowled. I handled my heart by my spirit growled. It was time to write, Die or Fight. Take these clouds to an ominous sight. and build narrative around pure spite. Sprinkle the future with seeds, i wanted to watch something grow while my spirit fed upon the poetic dictator. A caniving self induced player hater.

So i built and i planned, the drive of fire never left my hand. The chains hurt my gaunt leg, that night was the worse because i was forced to plead and beg. Who the fuck said life was easy, the difficulty level continued to rise enough to make any punk queasy. I was born a wordsmith, assassinating every obstacle with my whimsical gift. This was my honor, my pain, and glory. I weave hate and love into a beautiful story, with a cruel end. As the world crumbles, ill leave my live to send.

It was sunrise and i opened my tired eyes. The sun shined a light on my fears, on the tears of a lost and dying soul. But my grandma taught not to listen to bullshit, so i tore off my ear. I was covered in blood, warmed my motivation of a savage improvisation. Its mud before the trophy above, the war came before the flock of doves. I pulled my leg from the chain, gradually leaving behind a past that was so bleak. Im Grandin, minutes, hours, days passed by i stand by my crash landing.

I was gone, the prison walls were burnt with my prototype heart. I had my armor and my pen, motherfucker Im ready to start. I wrote a symphony, comprised of jubilant lyrics and a falsetto heretic. I created an entity, my name is Grand in nature, so just call me the Brotha man. I had an epiphany, I love you, you love me, this world evolves, everyday there is more to see. I visited guilt’s grave while keeping every sweet memory I could save. Writers Block had an upper hand, Yo, im ambidextrous. This is a Statement

Generations

The crowd gathers to watch her desecrate herself 
She cries in the moonlight
Trying to keep her head, trying not to get hurt
The scars of last night join the rest and stand out 
The bar is set so high, that she can’t even reach 
Life is a monster that looks like a beach 

Coming to your own in a new life
High praise and souvenirs 
White lies with so much to fear
She grinds and gets away, so much in her life that she wish she could redo 
Undone on pills, liquor in the pit of the pile
Bad times to pass out, so many times she woke up black and blue

So many times that she wish that what she saw wasn’t true 

Slow Songs

 

The Worst words became dust in the wind, the last smile came seconds before the end

Moving my body to music that’s not playing, but it’s in my head

Slow songs play while they embalm the dead
Slow Songs in memory like a Pop Star’s distant future

I used to be a good boy but then i was corrupted by these slow songs

Turn my head, turn toward the winter sun

You’ll find hope in it one day

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Time

 
TIMES (From www.anthonygrandin.com)

Times when you forget your own name
Author in another time
Times changing so fast, realizing that every time you see the leaves turn brown might be your last
You only live once, well i want to live forever
Through my legacy and endeavors
Forever

But as i march through the sea, my dreams stay in the shadows
Imagine being in the middle of the sea standing on water
They say that’s religious but i just call it overly ambitious
I drown in my own passion, i frown and complain
I recall my pain each day at a time
The sun goes down and i would run toward the other side

I conquered all that, can you believe that is true
I think so, but i want to hear that from you
I want to know that this isn’t surreal poetry or my damn eulogy
I want to be free on my own power, and so far i’ve been doing some walking

Going into the flames to get a cape and some other shit
Finally having some underwear that fit
Something to sing, and some time to dance
My best friend used to be a little ant, no not me
Anything to grasp, trying to be
Just to be
Until the end
Until the end

And i look at the stars in the sky
They tell me the love me
What would you say to infinite truth
What do you say when your sitting on the roof
Something so plain turns into a masterpiece in the sky
And it was then that i knew i’d never die

Sospedos

Negative man
I’m a negative man, in a blabbering scene so let’s be real
Taking care of documents, library of god’s word
I’m discouraged wide awake
But falling asleep

One day i blow up

One day, one more day without love
Don’t kill me
Don’t say those things

Just spare me in this wilderness

Spare me in City Light
because before i wrote this night

I’m a Villain

Long obituaries through arbitrary nights

Fighting for my Grandmother to live through unnecessary lights
As a child i skipped through flying kites, leading the film room and studying the good ol’ fights
The World through a book, i was a villain
Laced with irony, is that a paradox

Me vs Myself now that’s something i’d paid to see
Blood on the dance floor and a reflection of you and me
I cared about a world so careless, by my life for the perfect price

No soul to sell, the devil has it in hell

I’m a warmonger, a villain in this culture, so let’s build something thats fit to last