Woke up to this world so cold and lonely/a damaged soul left me exhausted, dazed, & confused not yet ready to speak out in disapproval of sanctioned self-torment/ knowing the fruit from those seeds inspire the darker side of me, soooo …
Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, and fuck you!
The path of my better man calls as my ignorance dissipates and I see myself naked and finally no longer ashamed … See! And that’s just what I was figuring on, so as a matter of record let’s throw all our cards on the table, discarded the joker before fishing my Ace, undisputed King wit my Queen shuffling the deck - feeling lucky so let’s roll them dice cuz we got angels on both of our shoulders tonight – sticky life changing challenges kept our backs to the wall like Joe Cool spittin’ fuck that! Exclamation mark comma quotation marks screams, “we puffs that ganja”
Late one night on television Soul Food said the fastest growing new cases of HIV/AIDS is black girls under 21/like throwing Hebrew babies in the Nile/like taking Black motherhood from the future of Black girls/like does that mean we need Black teen mothers to survive? Walking through a wasteland of jackhammers, scaffolding, wires, smoke stacks, new boutiques, and alehouses/coffee shops, imploded school buildings with specifically selected Educrats … only corner store bodegas remain with their nostalgic reminiscence/ we were all sent running for shelter, peace of mind, and a more cost effective community to start over again in … revitalization is what I think they call it
Ghetto birds be clockin’ me and chicken heads stay chicken hawkin’ me because magnificent missiles be heat seekin’/but let me take it back to the kid wit the white on white Puma Baskets … red + grey/blue + white/solid blue, red + green fat laces – on that very first day of prep school I came in rockin’ pre Fresh Prince of Bel Air but post Beat Street, LL Cool J in my walkman, and the summer of ’86 on my nasty little mind
“My radio believe me I like it loud/I’m the man with the box that can rock the crowd/walking down the street/wit my hardcore beat/while my JVC vibrates the concrete …
Ghetto fabulous before I could proudly say it, a black novelty suburban B Boy before I could clearly display it/stuck in between with a vaguely staccato stutter in my step and a self conscious glitch pruning the branches of my social development/violently taste testing the surplus my stubby working class fingers tips just couldn’t clutch -
Growing wit the times you learn to adjust a lil quicker/doubling up on them L’s, while slowing it down on them liquors/bloodstains from my battle scars sketches out the peripheral of an unique figure/though deep in my heart I still remain that Illmatic nigga/’94 Metro north to the 6 train Willis Avenue spot/4 fat bags please my nigga/on project roof tops we slap boxed, beat boxed, & free-styled pausing to dissect the city’s missteps sparked by our superior cipher rhetoric
A 70’s kid who awkwardly developed into an 80’s teen forced to become a 90’s hustler … until my scorpion infested purgatory @ the most high/holy virtue/solo only voice of God/but I swear we love everyone church/temple/sanctuary of God/incorporated … As I recollect the dialect from my mind/ its prone to function much like a tech 9 with the inclination to jam at your most inopportune time/convincing yourself of the need for deeper investigation, pleasing your inner detective/you'll find me horizon hopping with two of God's stars neatly tucked beneath each shoulder blade
This black nigga/blacked out from the blackened tar left around the chamber/graduated from high school before I dropped outta college/before I dropped outta seminary... Get it/irrelevant cats’ spazed when my ecclesiology rendered the establishment a non-factor within my paper-stacking factory
Sadly, I was forced to make a cameo appearance on that liquor store video with them twin calicoes/house slippers and a raincoat/Newport long in between my lips/talking incoherent history from my former existence/when I'm being watched I watch back that's the policy/I am so dope/like the haze with the purple feathers/now you'll take what I give you & we'll both call it help in the meantime daily challenging my uncanny lung capacity/when I fly we be so high yet remain chastised for spinning the bottle while kissing the sky/Magnificent Aquarian Righteously Creating Unrest Semi-annually connect the first letter twisted within the contents of my honey dipped blunt & see the name that'll prove my point
I like: "Walking through a wasteland of jackhammers, scaffolding, wires, smoke stacks, new boutiques, and alehouses/coffee shops," "revitalization is what I think they call it," "/I am so dope/like the haze with the purple feathers/now you'll take what I give you & we'll both call it help," and the whole transitioning through the years part.
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