Were made to think we can’t express how we feel.
I howl at the moon while tossing a bottle at a police car.
I scream my lungs out on top of a hill for the world to know I’m real.
Tell me I’m worthless, play with my emotions, **** what makes me, me.
Perfect! I’ll use that as strength to make beautiful poetry.
See I turn negativity into positivity. Ugly into beautiful. Hurtful into hopeful.
My homeland is poverty rooted by racial diversity but if the people united we could create a better community.
Guns are directed on neighbors because their flag represents a different set, yet every man bleeds red except for the politicians they bleed out greed.
I know I can inspire more MC’s, writers, artist, musicians and straight passionate people if given the opportunity instead our so called hip-hop creates more plain generic and unrepresented music for our peeps.
I’m not saying hip-hop is dead I’m saying the music industry controls everything.
I walked through flames and came out burned. Avalanches covered my body and I still came out warm thanks to what I past learned.
The pain hurts but I rather go through it than be sedated.
I rather continue to spread compassion than have it be taken.