used to try writing raps
my version of stealing from blacks
near had a heart-attack over the fact
aint nothing worse than a white assed mac
back to the roots with my poetic muse
but I refuse to lose the blues
or act like they aren’t my bad news
see, I too have worn out shoes
solidarity and commonality through being poor
letters to Santa scratched into the cold dirt floor
always living hungry, afraid to ask for more
only thing ever offered freely was access to the front door
you know..  “complaining ***, get the **** out”
leaving very little room for anyone to doubt
there was nothing of my station granting me any version of clout
and fingerprints across my face were the answer to a pout
now I just stick with poetry, was never really a thief
well except that little piece of coral from the Hawaiian reef
or my trip to Jamaica when I ripped off that spleef
or the time after all that trimming I had 11 pounds of keef
those are all lies I have barely been off the west coast
I wanted you to be impressed so I had to try and boast
like that was the only way you would think I was ‘the most’
guess I will go do my Elwood impression and have some plain white toast