So I don’t...won’t...leave a less than Legendary blight.
A spot on my rep from an ill-advised step...
.............................Could tarnish my image of might.
And ain’t it all about image anyway?
Fuck the words on the page...
It’s more of an “Am I still dope?” survey.
Who’s checkin my work, is it just the new jerks...
Or are the vets stopping by for a quench of their thirst?
Do I still provide what’s strived for? Am I still some kind of idol?
Are my verses still considered vital, providing gospel like a bible?
Or was that all just “back when”...
When I had something to prove to a bunch of non-men?
Boys who’ve grown...to now having kids themselves...
It’s funny how they wanted in my zone...
Yet, now...pretty much have rhyme on the shelf.
That, in itself, is distracting...
Makes me feel like what’s real is fasting.
Hungry for what’s everlasting...
Praise from peers cuz you’re so impacting.
It’s like dozens of pens have run out of ink...
Cascades of keyboards, all on the blink.
Countless heads unable to think...
While words of rhyme circle the sink.