nothing at all

i'm an exhibition of man's wickedness

a confirmation of our race's sickness

decedent of those bred out of spite

for endurance and might

to watch chicken scratch criminals stack wealth to new heights

i might

just summon the will like a subpoena

to irritate shit deep within like jalapeños

with my words as my gringos

take aim and never miss like a black out card in bingo

bank on what was like a casino

feast on what was reaped with my peeps to strengthen the pack like dingos

be who they point to when they ask "have you seen those...

...niggas over there?

chasing dreams and wife'n em

gang banging on ignorance, hate fighting em

all the wild, untamed, swagger jackers biting em

look in their eyes

i think that shit exciting em

i'm still trying to figure the shit that'll frighten em"

well i saw you looking, and head inkwell... blase... something

but what you trying to figure out don't exist...

it's nothing

parts of me

i used to be a scholar for them words...

what power in nouns, pronouns, adjectives, verbs, and adverbs.

they were just as much part of me as they were of speech.

conjunctions, prepositions, and interjections for elections,

they change the flow of life like blood flow to an erection.

correction comes with red ink just like lies come with group think

... i challenge each individual to think for themselves,

climb jacob's ladder instead of taking the stairs,

and instead of being brave enough to show the god in you,

petrification, results of being scared.

it's a horror show to see my people so

i wish these wicked images had a hell to which they could go

dragging the hate and bad intentions down with them

beneath our range of hearing

build a Utopian future upon ingenious engineering

so little time is the only thing i'm fearing

my god is so gracious

so forgiving

and generous when it comes to favor

dear, heavenly father

i just have one more wish

i pray through you son jesus the will and strength no never quit

and the focus to know that living for your will and not mine

will be paid with bliss.

TRUE!

heavenly bliss.

i take aim

hold breath with steady wrists

until my time is up and i'm done with this earthly

shit aint easy, even when all goes right

left the quill for the mic,

and since then something just aint felt right

i don't sleep well at night

i guess that was just the parts of speech

showing me how much i missed me.

i hope all of hell writes letters i never get

for all eternity

sulking bout how

they miss me how i missed me.