Rolling

I first strolled onto the scene with clinched fists and grinding teeth, now I’m rolling off the walls like Ketamine, I’d like to represent a mezzanine because you know my mathematics are looking great, I’m not the king of the hill because I’m snoring on a mountain of fate ready to sedate motherfuckers with my mates, tell me about violence? I’ve been killing my liver for fifteen years

They wanted to name my book the Epitome of Hopes and Fears, and they wanted me to concede but I slit my wrist for the blood sweat and tears,

feeling like nobody cared so I wanted to make things happen. Pushing books out faster than the New Haven guns are clapping, Try to triple team the best, what’s happening?

But none of this is a game to me, I write masterpieces on the weekdays and spell out symphonies on the low end, I’m off putting and so is the sequence of tens of which my salary is set to begin, watching your mother fend for herself against some vicious dogs, I’m going to snatch that mink grab those pearls, bleeding on the edge of the world, sniffing so much blow that I think I’m the curl in the comma printed on my pay raise. Crime pays, because I’ve been robbing ambition since I first walked into the room, I know they got my back even in questionable situations

All hope died of asphyxiation but I didn’t even get my hands dirty, the prodigal son,

the name seems worthy. Can’t hurt me, or phase me, Took time to investigate the bullshit and  this is my trophy. Used to wear a ski mask just to write a hit, now I know that the pen can be more than a grammatical weapon then the post pink slip

Born and Bred with a pistol in my mouth, I swear tears never streamed south. I have things lined up for the future, but the critics are to busy trying to open up my healed suture. Used to be loser, then became and monk and now I can crossover, jump over your head and slam dunk. Multiple bodies in the trunk with pencil wounds, your smell of success was years back and even then it stunk but now it’s rotting away.

On a day like today I’ve got life on a tray throwing up gang signs missing fingers, deformed ear, oh glad that you care. I thought you were to busy wrestling with your man teddy bear, and I stand sincere in front of you today, face painted with a  vintage look of fear. And as the beat gets darker so does the horizon, so go and get it. Empty threats are your death, no matter how fresh I’ll put you to the test.

I hear them laughing as I wake up in hell, but I’m a chemical that doesn’t mix well, I’m perpendicular to the sickness…hell, parallel to whatever is left, I want to go ill and stand still, I never took my eyes away when I wasn’t the predator but the kill

 

Now I dance to an ominous tune, I’m the king of the hill, independent of the population’s unrealistic lust of the dollar bill,

Perpetuating doom

I repudiate therapy and request for the snub to twist aside, I smile as the painful episodes subside, this is the season and I’m ready for war, but I have to stay alive as my mind contemplates treason, I continually attempt to outsmart reason

We swerve to the fast lane and the speed of sound stutters, we are raising prodigies

Brilliant oddities, In the distance you hear thunder, In my periphery, I sense wonder, like who is this bad ass nigga with all the thunder, will he conquer or blunder, Will he conquer or blunder? Or will all fall out off way as the new day starts to conjure sunrise, for your eyes only, we look at situations differently, because a lot of them end up quite homely. The biggest prophecy is to shoot you down where you are standing, Strawberry Grandin!

Words Can Be Amplified

We expected some kind of night today, rats in the alley won’t integrate

Pleasure of the night locked away, worship an epoch ignore reality

Wont serenade

Watching the night catch fire with a pair of new shades

It’s the bombs of the past that make us pontificate

Its corporate skylines and sealed doors that keep us in place

Ticking time bomb, time to start the race

 

I’ll tell you about rats in the alley to calculate

Placebo is the isle as sunset waits, for the world to adjust to oversized cities

Actions speak loud, but words can be amplified

I fell into the mud but at least I tired, the moon is revealing the time and I can’t breath

There are a thousand great things coming this way, but society really messed up today

 

Blasphemy is painted on the pictures of life, integrity is being held down by a knife

Rats in the alley won’t leave and they’re desperate

Holding onto the problem like a surrogate, process the information and we won’t chase it down

They can’t control what we say, as they turn into protesting vibrant sounds

Burning towns, wishing that the echo wasn’t around

Howling trees, a gust of wind whispering to me

The racing rats march as they flee

The highway is full and they stare like enemies

The walls are building with a propensity

They are imposters, this isn’t the world’s entity

The rats are running with divinity

 

The beaches are covered with regret and lost hope

Delve deep into the bright city to find treasure and elegant lights

Breakdown to cope, but the skyscrapers suggest rebuilding

The buildings prove there is no god, so we just go on believing in luck

This is a bleak existence as the city approaches a black hole

They made the gun, but we made the goal

We’d do anything to see the sun

 

 

 

 

Rebel

My ascension will provoke anxiety but I have a shrink, chaos in the horizon but I refuse to blink, refuse to think, how I came alive after each disaster, I stay safe because my dreams preach just like a pastor

They insisted on calling me MC Socrates, for the rawest flow of the philosophy, drip dropping these and spitting so harshly that the atmosphere is due for apologies. Ophthalmology, my rhymes are college bound destined to major in astrology

I say, kill the noise I’m trying to read, about these information age gladiators conversing with me, as if I would seize the opportunity, as they mistaken the nights silence for some sort of hypocrisy, but politics had no play, no diplomatic immunity today

Just News to say, bypass the outlets and fools, fill up on vegetables especially the peas, mastered any pattern that’s in between A and Z, god locked me in my chamber but I had already stolen the key. This battle is Jr. King vs. Mini Me, do you think happiness is the antonym to my strife, I’ll die for what I believe then live a fake life

Should I climax to create the calamity, or the let everyone else balance modern laws in this world’s insanity. They set a spotlight to our flaws

They wouldn’t stop at our information so they broke our jaws

Without speech there is the greatest language, strongest cause is created out of anguish

Rhyming patterns are the infrastructure in bulk

The Rebel, through devastating storms I base my life upon with the portraits and statues I sculpt

With desperation, I wonder if I missed daylight and the birds had sung

The taste of fear, on my tongue

So I left for the area where the sky was blue, deceived them enough to believe I was from the Metro area of Timbuktu

My holy grail was a picture of something inappropriate I drew

People acted like I spoke in tongues, they feared my scars, frowned as I put smoke in my lungs

I felt like I wanted to declare war on the young

Wondering if this is why the politicians need so many guns! Pleaded with a plot, I observed my life all day

I had epic conservations with big words, because I had nothing to say

The music was the same old melody and even that wouldn’t play

How can I live defeated by my own constitution, I blamed my problems on the new pollution

I wanted to grow wings, and be part of a spiritual revolution

I hate people who wear their sun glasses because they think they are so bright

Never understand censoring the violence when every day I live it

I acted tough, tried to try, each day was another reason to die

Still judged as an outcast of my family, my mind was no longer parallel to my sanity

I entertained therapists with my calamity

Spat volatile and unnecessary amounts of profanity

Depression tried to kill me, not with one assassin, but the whole fleet

When I lost, it wasn’t the defeat but the purpose; I had an army and all of its analogies at my feet

I never paused, I’d never retreat

How should I end this, put my life on repeat?

Fast forward the nonsense, and find something to keep