Cuz everyone of ya'll know no matter how smart, fine or on the grind
about his master plan and shit/don't none of ya'll want a broke ass nigga who's on the grind & ain't got shit/so I broke it down then called a favor to see if the hook up would still cook up/bagged it up too close to distrust/fell deep into concentration and inhaled the
earth's creation to clutch the figures my ego still lust-ed/stamped it for slaughter and pitched on the fiend filled block/a conjurer of word pat-ter-rens/could easily find some words to assign for rhythm & tone/but then you'd never see this as more than just a poem/it's the pain, fear & rejection ten deep in my dome, it's the procrastination
practice that kept my black ass far away from the throne/I figure why carry it wit me when I can spit it & shine/from the classic green North Face like a 5 year bid to/the best advice from a short life like BIG's/living life without fear, putting 4 krts in my Baby Girl's ear/Tell me your version and I'll work to believe but DAMAGED GOODS is
stamped prominently across my packaging/won't always be locked behind this self-imposed door/chambers are dark & ugly psychological affects on the terminal poor so we'll see what type of monster this cheddar breed for sure/acid dipped razor sharp words like hate saw the fork in the road went back & smoked a L /cuz I sling bars that get ya hooked like Hope/insensitivity at inception left me on the bench way past crunch time shooting prayers for an extra frame/just wanted to make 'em clap for this like Jesus, keep it real like Big Baby & prove to the Stained Glass Gestopo they could never ever stop me/constant evolution & perpetual motion all while perpetually blunted
Feb 17, 2011
Feb 2, 2011
I'm a Bubblehead, I Never Listened to Nothing My Mother Said ...
I passed out again on the way to the hospital and woke up in triage, “Come on, son, they’re ready for you. Take your time getting up.” The pain made me self-conscious of how I looked, “Name?” But it was the nurse’s pretty face and dreamy hazel eyes that made feel like a super-herb, “Mr. Baxter, I see you left the incident portion blank.” I looked like Martin in that Tommy Hearns episode, “Yeah, Ma you can call me D. I was attacked, but I’m not sure what happened, it all went so fast. Whatever went on I probably had it coming it’s a bit complicated, ya know.” Her head snapped up from the clipboard with a no your busted ass just didn’t look tattooed on her face, “No, I don’t know, Mr. Baxter, please do not refer to me as ‘Ma’ and whatever you choose to divulge is your business.” My father’s eyebrow shot up but my attention was still locked in on the nurse, “Donte, if you’re not going to say anything or file a report, I understand, but make sure it’s for the right reasons. Revenge will not fix anything and though you may decide to disappear, the rest of the family still lives here.” Revenge had never entered my mind. Who was I going to get enlist to fight this invisible war? “Nah, Dad, I know. I’m done. Really, I am.” My father nodded with a slight smile, “Ok, son. Miss, our family doctor should be here shortly. Appleby is the name, Dr. Appleby.” When the police came by for a statement they were clearly bothered by my lack of recall abilities. I think the taller cop wanted to spit on me as he left the room, “Son, I have some things to take care of back at the office. I’ll need to reschedule my donor meeting but I’ll be back to check on you. You think you’ll be alright? Do we need to make some other arrangements with the police? Maybe a guard?” My face felt like it would fall off if I laughed but that was funny, “Nah, Dad. I’m small time, that’s movie shit, stuff but thanks for the concern though. I’m not important enough to run up in a hospital for and don’t wet it as soon as I’m up, I’m outta here …” He stopped for effect, “Yeah, Donte. I want to talk about when I get back. Your mother and I have some conditions. Rest up though and we’ll discuss when we get back.” I didn’t want to make a fuss. I fully understood since they saved my life there would now be conditions attached to any future assistance. “Ok, Dad. I’ll be here.”
He exchanged smiles with the new nurse as she walked in. She was a gem, my face was the size of home plate and I still wanted to kick game. Pathetic. “Mr. Baxter, we’re going to need to get you up and out of that bed. It says here you need a second set of x-rays, so we’ll get you in this wheel chair and be off.” Fine and awesome customer service, “No problem” I figured she’d mistake my quite approach for maturity and see how far that got me. Visions filled sheets of mental paper and it seemed a perfect story for the Chronicles. And in a panic I realized I didn’t have my journal. That shit was at the lab and that couldn’t be good. Ebony was the only person who actually knew about, The Divine Sinner Chronicles. I started to write seriously in ninth grade after Mr. Carol compared my style to the Catcher in the Rye. That had to be one of the things they looked for because they didn’t take much of anything else, “Umm, is there any way I could make a phone call before we leave?” Her smile was like cinnamon toast, “Sure, Sweetie, we won’t be ready for another five or so minutes. I’ll come back when your doctor arrives.” It made sense that James was after the book. I sure he read it before he dropped off the map. Inspired by Tupac’s Soulja’s Story I stared to write about everything that happened since I moved to Boutin. My mind went into panic while I dialed Ebony’s crib, it rang forever, “Hello?” I knew she was scared, “Eb.” Until she heard my voice, “DONTE! What the fuck, nigga! Where are you? What the fuck happened to your place, yo? The cops have been in here and everything, yo, it’s serious.” “I know, Eb, that’s why I’m calling. Listen, I need a huge favor. I know it’s hot but I need something outta my place. I need my book, you know the marble one I’m always writing in?” “Donte that shit has been in my place for like a week now …” “What?” “Yeah, remember we got fucked up? We smoked like twelve blunts that night. No wonder you don’t remember.” “Ebony, I love you! Oh, my fucking god, you saved my life, yo. You don’t even know.” “Whatever nigga. I do know, and stop staying you love me unless you mean it. Where are you?” “I’m in the hospital. They fucked me up lovely, whatever my place looks like, I look ten times worse.” “Damn, yo, it’s like that? Should I be worried?” “Well, not really because they haven’t figured out if they need to be worried about anything. I mean it’s just my journal, you know, I’m just writing stories and shit. But that’s some snitch shit to them. I’m saying it’s not like niggaz be keeping journals and shit.” She paused for a while to process everything, “What floor are you on?”
He exchanged smiles with the new nurse as she walked in. She was a gem, my face was the size of home plate and I still wanted to kick game. Pathetic. “Mr. Baxter, we’re going to need to get you up and out of that bed. It says here you need a second set of x-rays, so we’ll get you in this wheel chair and be off.” Fine and awesome customer service, “No problem” I figured she’d mistake my quite approach for maturity and see how far that got me. Visions filled sheets of mental paper and it seemed a perfect story for the Chronicles. And in a panic I realized I didn’t have my journal. That shit was at the lab and that couldn’t be good. Ebony was the only person who actually knew about, The Divine Sinner Chronicles. I started to write seriously in ninth grade after Mr. Carol compared my style to the Catcher in the Rye. That had to be one of the things they looked for because they didn’t take much of anything else, “Umm, is there any way I could make a phone call before we leave?” Her smile was like cinnamon toast, “Sure, Sweetie, we won’t be ready for another five or so minutes. I’ll come back when your doctor arrives.” It made sense that James was after the book. I sure he read it before he dropped off the map. Inspired by Tupac’s Soulja’s Story I stared to write about everything that happened since I moved to Boutin. My mind went into panic while I dialed Ebony’s crib, it rang forever, “Hello?” I knew she was scared, “Eb.” Until she heard my voice, “DONTE! What the fuck, nigga! Where are you? What the fuck happened to your place, yo? The cops have been in here and everything, yo, it’s serious.” “I know, Eb, that’s why I’m calling. Listen, I need a huge favor. I know it’s hot but I need something outta my place. I need my book, you know the marble one I’m always writing in?” “Donte that shit has been in my place for like a week now …” “What?” “Yeah, remember we got fucked up? We smoked like twelve blunts that night. No wonder you don’t remember.” “Ebony, I love you! Oh, my fucking god, you saved my life, yo. You don’t even know.” “Whatever nigga. I do know, and stop staying you love me unless you mean it. Where are you?” “I’m in the hospital. They fucked me up lovely, whatever my place looks like, I look ten times worse.” “Damn, yo, it’s like that? Should I be worried?” “Well, not really because they haven’t figured out if they need to be worried about anything. I mean it’s just my journal, you know, I’m just writing stories and shit. But that’s some snitch shit to them. I’m saying it’s not like niggaz be keeping journals and shit.” She paused for a while to process everything, “What floor are you on?”
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