Fresh like a breeze along the beaches of caribbean seas,
squeezed orange juice on early mornings in champagne glasses.
Fresh like a bald cut on a Marine, Navy seal
or even the old man down the block keeping it real.
Fresh like a baby in a womb, car smell, new perfume, dorm rooms,
or anything that seems cool.
Fresh like a new pair of J's,
or even a basketball player even better than Kobe when he plays.
Fresh like a girl opening her legs for feelings of *******
or even teenagers using proactive for there pores.
Fresh like tired of saying fresh like
I'm the best right, lyrical lights
infested blood, Z Type.

I know its wack but I try my best,
to even contest with poetry,
complexed not even a inch of talent flowing in me.
My enemies telling me that its real
still there scrolls are sealed,
lying to keep my lips sealed.
They laugh behind my back
giving false facts, about me laying down wax
to keep my rhymes charged to the max.
Instead I walk on tacks bare foot open toes
its a lie to tell the truth why should I even appose.
I received a broken nose mentally
foreseeing scripts critically
AM I FRESH I GUESS NOT.
More of a plot to leave me blind,
terrorist worst then Sadam
aligned  to lock my mind
I look at myself below divine.