Beaten up Chucks
on a downtown street
Niggas don't play
'Cause I got my own beat
footsteps around me
cover my flow
I've got my girls
you don't even know
what to do
when I'm comin' 'round
what should I call
this brand new sound?
fightin off niggas
like it's goin outta style
this white boy don't play
I'm like the 8 mile
Real talk though
I ain't no one to fuck wit
so you better not
even think of tryin' to truck this
I maybe can't ball
but I lay down the rhymes, yea
I may not be black
so catch up with the times, yea
All these stupid rappers
all of them can suck me
'cause all I really need
are my beaten up chucks, see
and now you've heard me spit
so just try and touch me.
Saturday, May 1, 2010
The World We Know (A Rap/Rock Song)
Rapper:
People dyin every day
another life another say
I never knew it was today
that she was gonna be
traded by fiends
for heroin and other things
and as they snort their coke
they'll hear him sing
that...
(chorus)
Singer:
Everything you do
They don't know
They don't know that it's the truth
These sheeple follow you
and you tell them
and you tell them what you want them to think
what you want them to do
It's the world we know
(verse 2)
Rapper:
And the world we see
Fighting's become
a way to be
because some people
aren't free
from corruption and hate
and then her pupils dialate
because the guys
can't get a date
and so they chose
to date and rape
as if there was
no other way
but then they'll hear him say
that...
(chorus)
I fight because I care
about the people unaware
of the rights that we all share
to life and love and all that shit
if people knew they'd have a fit
because they live in cells unlit
and as they rot for crimes undone
they know those motherfuckers won
and that this fucked up system grows
and that's why I use my flow
to tell you we can fight
against the world we know.
People dyin every day
another life another say
I never knew it was today
that she was gonna be
traded by fiends
for heroin and other things
and as they snort their coke
they'll hear him sing
that...
(chorus)
Singer:
Everything you do
They don't know
They don't know that it's the truth
These sheeple follow you
and you tell them
and you tell them what you want them to think
what you want them to do
It's the world we know
(verse 2)
Rapper:
And the world we see
Fighting's become
a way to be
because some people
aren't free
from corruption and hate
and then her pupils dialate
because the guys
can't get a date
and so they chose
to date and rape
as if there was
no other way
but then they'll hear him say
that...
(chorus)
I fight because I care
about the people unaware
of the rights that we all share
to life and love and all that shit
if people knew they'd have a fit
because they live in cells unlit
and as they rot for crimes undone
they know those motherfuckers won
and that this fucked up system grows
and that's why I use my flow
to tell you we can fight
against the world we know.
SRX EDGE
The pen I'm writing this with is called "SRX Edge"
I never understood why
they give such not exciting items
such exciting names
Actually, to me, a pen is exciting.
It might just be a tool
but, to me, it's a tool
with which I forge my art
create my craft
chistle my statues
of glorious heroes
in the world of poetry:
Robert Frost
Emily Dickenson
Sylvia Plath
Big Poppa E
That's right,
I said it.
Big Poppa E.
A man who's words have transformed my childhood
into such inspirational topics
that they've made my mediocre work
art.
So now I'm wondering to myself,
"Where do I go now?"
I'm sitting in in-school-suspension
for skipping bullshit classes
I don't even need
and I can't help contemplating
"Where am I going in life?
Where will this path lead me?
Will I go to college and become
a school therapist like I want to?
Or is my dad right?
Will I be nothing more than a failure
fighting for change in the desolate streets
trying to survive each winter?"
The truth is, I don't know
I don't know
I just don't know.
My life is
like T.S. Eliots "The Wasteland"
like Ophelia's last words
like Romeos plan
like Big Poppa E's "Pushing Buttons"
like being addicted
and having smoked your last cigarette
and not having nearly enough money to buy another pack
so you sit there and shake and fret
by yourself until your next paycheck
like so many allusions within similes
that I've honestly lost count.
Just like I've lost count
of the years that have gone by
since my dad last said he loved me
or called me "champ."
Just like I've lost count
of the number of times
I've cried over that last statement
and how many times
I've written poems he didn't read
about that last statement.
Poems written with a pen just like this one,
a not exciting tool
that cried it's ink onto a page just like this one
just to forge my art
and create my craft.
I never understood why
they give such not exciting items
such exciting names
Actually, to me, a pen is exciting.
It might just be a tool
but, to me, it's a tool
with which I forge my art
create my craft
chistle my statues
of glorious heroes
in the world of poetry:
Robert Frost
Emily Dickenson
Sylvia Plath
Big Poppa E
That's right,
I said it.
Big Poppa E.
A man who's words have transformed my childhood
into such inspirational topics
that they've made my mediocre work
art.
So now I'm wondering to myself,
"Where do I go now?"
I'm sitting in in-school-suspension
for skipping bullshit classes
I don't even need
and I can't help contemplating
"Where am I going in life?
Where will this path lead me?
Will I go to college and become
a school therapist like I want to?
Or is my dad right?
Will I be nothing more than a failure
fighting for change in the desolate streets
trying to survive each winter?"
The truth is, I don't know
I don't know
I just don't know.
My life is
like T.S. Eliots "The Wasteland"
like Ophelia's last words
like Romeos plan
like Big Poppa E's "Pushing Buttons"
like being addicted
and having smoked your last cigarette
and not having nearly enough money to buy another pack
so you sit there and shake and fret
by yourself until your next paycheck
like so many allusions within similes
that I've honestly lost count.
Just like I've lost count
of the years that have gone by
since my dad last said he loved me
or called me "champ."
Just like I've lost count
of the number of times
I've cried over that last statement
and how many times
I've written poems he didn't read
about that last statement.
Poems written with a pen just like this one,
a not exciting tool
that cried it's ink onto a page just like this one
just to forge my art
and create my craft.
Come Children
I wanna see the world
through the eyes of a seed
drifting on the wind
listening to it plead
"come children of god
come children of trees
let me hold you in my arms
let me kiss you with the breeze"
I wanna view the earth
from the eyes of a girl
a girl down on her knees
whispering to god
a girl begging "please,
don't take my life
don't give me keys
to heaven or hell"
-she pauses to weeze-
"I just want to live
in this room that I lease
for eight hundred a month
with this guy I won't leave
'cause I love him so much
and I truly believe
that if I don't stop
I will not cease."
she stops when she sees
outside her window
a very small seed
as it passes her room
-the one for lease-
it seems to plead
"Come children of god
come children of trees
let me hold you in my arms
let me kiss you with the breeze."
through the eyes of a seed
drifting on the wind
listening to it plead
"come children of god
come children of trees
let me hold you in my arms
let me kiss you with the breeze"
I wanna view the earth
from the eyes of a girl
a girl down on her knees
whispering to god
a girl begging "please,
don't take my life
don't give me keys
to heaven or hell"
-she pauses to weeze-
"I just want to live
in this room that I lease
for eight hundred a month
with this guy I won't leave
'cause I love him so much
and I truly believe
that if I don't stop
I will not cease."
she stops when she sees
outside her window
a very small seed
as it passes her room
-the one for lease-
it seems to plead
"Come children of god
come children of trees
let me hold you in my arms
let me kiss you with the breeze."
The Blitz
I am
constricted
to you, less
addicted to
meticulous
actions
for factions
or fashions
soldiers
need water
or rations
but we ain't
no plot or
no passion
'cause we
ain't for
nationalism
or lack there of.
You see
it's me
you're comin' for
'cause I keep
spitting lore
like a common whore
or your dad
when you were four
and I pour
the words
right down your throat
you come back for more
but you can't
get past my moat
of allusions and rhymes
just past the time
of war
it's what time
is for
a sight for sore
eyes that blind
and hands of gore
lips that list
a love I've kissed
they ask me the name
I say
"if it's all the same
we're not at the ritz,
so call this
The Blitz"
constricted
to you, less
addicted to
meticulous
actions
for factions
or fashions
soldiers
need water
or rations
but we ain't
no plot or
no passion
'cause we
ain't for
nationalism
or lack there of.
You see
it's me
you're comin' for
'cause I keep
spitting lore
like a common whore
or your dad
when you were four
and I pour
the words
right down your throat
you come back for more
but you can't
get past my moat
of allusions and rhymes
just past the time
of war
it's what time
is for
a sight for sore
eyes that blind
and hands of gore
lips that list
a love I've kissed
they ask me the name
I say
"if it's all the same
we're not at the ritz,
so call this
The Blitz"
Sunsets
like rain in a forest
pouring over the canopy
like smiles in a crowd
burning through the fog
like diamonds in the rough
ascending to human hands
like pearls in your eyes
a shakespearian tragedy
wrapped in a turncoat
wrapped in a trivial sunset
can sunsets be trivial?
the beauty of purple over orange
over yellow over red
the colors meshing in
sensual intercourse
as I feel your smooth skin
against my chest
a glorious romance
embedded in my arms
like so many tattoos
I know you're there
like a crystal in a field
I feel your heart
like a sunset
I see only you.
pouring over the canopy
like smiles in a crowd
burning through the fog
like diamonds in the rough
ascending to human hands
like pearls in your eyes
a shakespearian tragedy
wrapped in a turncoat
wrapped in a trivial sunset
can sunsets be trivial?
the beauty of purple over orange
over yellow over red
the colors meshing in
sensual intercourse
as I feel your smooth skin
against my chest
a glorious romance
embedded in my arms
like so many tattoos
I know you're there
like a crystal in a field
I feel your heart
like a sunset
I see only you.
Never Again
Never again
she said
spite pouring through her veins
and arteries
like so many cars
over the san francisco bridge
and if we were to look in one of those cars
we'd see a girl
probably nineteen
on her way home
There she sat
lonely and bound
to her seat and belt
like a dog to a leash
dreaming of getting up
and flying away
but she doesn't
she sits there
and thinks about her ex
a boy too confused
to see what he wants
she thought to herself
well, what if he knew?
what if he knew
exactly what he was missing out on?
she shook her head
relieving herself of the memories
so fragile that their
shattered fragments
blocked her ideas
of peace and serenity
and she reminded herself
Never again.
she said
spite pouring through her veins
and arteries
like so many cars
over the san francisco bridge
and if we were to look in one of those cars
we'd see a girl
probably nineteen
on her way home
There she sat
lonely and bound
to her seat and belt
like a dog to a leash
dreaming of getting up
and flying away
but she doesn't
she sits there
and thinks about her ex
a boy too confused
to see what he wants
she thought to herself
well, what if he knew?
what if he knew
exactly what he was missing out on?
she shook her head
relieving herself of the memories
so fragile that their
shattered fragments
blocked her ideas
of peace and serenity
and she reminded herself
Never again.
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