Black Poetry : One Verse....

Discussion in 'Black Poetry - Get Your Flow On!' started by midnightsson, Jul 15, 2002.

  1. midnightsson

    midnightsson Well-Known Member MEMBER

    Jun 15, 2002
    Likes Received:
    MidAmerica Products
    It’s like I see these city streets through 3-D glasses, spit **** to induce confusion and reduce the masses, to a bunch of confused kidz, that are seeing the world through eyes with half closed lids. Open your mind and eyes to what’s really around you, before your body winds up lost and they’ll say they never found you, due to the fact that I’ll dismember all ya limbs worse than anything you ever heard on any of the 4 Eminems. Remember then, don’t speak my name if I’m not around to hear it, I shoot gunz with big bullets that disables *****’s spirit. Bounce ****a, like a rubber ball on a hard floor, if you leaving girl, don’t let your *** get hit by the door. I’m one-half black, one-fourth trouble, one-fourth beast, when I see fresh meat I feast, on any dummy who wanna step into my radius, ain’t no evading this. I send verbal heat seekers on these so-called hot boyz, do a drive-by on my squeaky bike and silence all their loud noise. With so many different toys I’m like a kid at Christmas eve, like a magician with all types of tricks up my sleeve, just when you think itz over, I shoot bullets, intoxicate you with pain, leave you sober. No Range Rover, just a Huffy special, but my bike and my gun is made from the same metal, they share a common bond, I do ride-by’s and shoot up blocks like the Tali-Ban. I think I’m misunderstood, smoking on the Bin-Laden, but still it makes my heart sadden, to see the attacks on september eleven, so many people going to heaven.
    Kids dying, before their time, I kick one more rhyme, before I spontaneous combust, this world makes by heart beat fast like adrenaline rush, guns bust, sirens singing kids to sleep, the way things are going have my thoughts running deep, like the blood in my veins, my brain is constantly shifting, politics, religion, society, why does the white man always lie to me? It’s **** like this that makes me fear sobriety. My heart feels like a bomb hooked to an internal clock, so I never know when I’m gonna explode, or how to make the clock stop, so it keeps running and I have no choice, other than keep speaking my voice, through rhyme and sound, hopefully my lost soul will someday be found. and I can stop spinning around in circles.