Yo! check it...
Hey yo!
Street poetry is seen often, as built solidly on kids hustling, plus quick robberies and clip busting, "hey this possibly will fill coffins", is what probably they’ll think of those-things, this quite arguably will kill something, that we’ve harden as a skill; won’t it//
Now I ain’t saying it’s our fault, yeah rules are changing in our sport, but they ain’t playing in our court, and if they stay the visit’s short//
their glimpse is skimming, they don’t see the real meaning, of this shit that we’re revealing//
judging books just by they’re covers, gory hooks ain’t all we mutter, one quick look and then it’s over, now they’re hooked to shut our auras…
But ur verses they keep blazing-on, we made it this millennium, but thirst inside their craniums, alerts their brains for straining-on, to try evaporating’em//
It hurts but they can’t stop it, cause true thirst is what they’re lacking, see “The First” will keep us rapping, spitting graphic//
Spit more graphic than banned from television,
like we’re asking to get banned or get restrictions,
but I’m laughing cause they cannot stop our diction//
our delivery of lyrics that will bitter he, whose spirit takes our imagery too literally, they fear it when they hear or see it visually, but easily the kids still feel us vividly…
You see First amendment, has commanded, and restricted them to ban shit, if it’s sick and they can’t stand it, they gon’ still have to withstand it, understand it//
get my drift, yo rap’s demanded on the list, means we have landed on this bitch, and now it’s handed to the rich//
the poor, the sick, the strong, the right's the wrong's, the fight goes on, to write these songs, and lift the microphone//
Our lyric addicts have had it, with lack of product, the critics battered to shatter our rapping logic, with spirit at it, but haven’t, it's too hypnotic, still spitting graphic rap tactics, yeah we're still at it...
Peace...
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