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Creepstar Feb 2016
All the true talent is being impeded
Everyone seems to please the conceded
Narsasistic egos,why you gonna feed it?
Offer up your bank,so they can bleed it
Dry
Another sucka
Caught up in a game,your gonna loose *******
Collect up celebrity baggage and check out
Support the underground,fresh rhymes,no doubt
Real lyrisists with non generic beats
Making real music to be played on the streets
Not ******* hype getting sales from the tweets
Get down with real artists and support with your sheets
I hear an awful lot of generic beats and rhymes and its kinda sad the four true elements of hiphop have been lost.
Wuji Seshat Oct 2014
Fear too is an epidemic, it stretches out like
An incubation period for a kind of doom
Population control, whispered a silent elite
Who engineer our wallets, our GMO food, our futures

Ebola was a convenient way, of making us fear
Who we once were again, black as a Nigerian
We died alone in deathbeds, isolated plastic containers
For who we once were, our organs giving out

Infection was a spider hand, MSM gave us
False positives, but could the main-stream-media
Be trusted any longer? Wasn’t this just a matter
Of time, an algorithm set loose upon the billions?

Fear is that place, where people go in adversity
It’s hypnotic like an audience at a concert
It’s contagious how the will for self-preservation can spread
Fight of flee, but where to run, out of the cities?

The new normal is a kind of paranoia
While we watch the situation very closely
Every hour there is underground news about
Another case in another country, Ebola isn’t

Your grandmother that only likes good climates
She’s an engineered hypothesis of how mobility
Causes any true pandemic to become a flamboyant outbreak
The comet that signals black plagues has been seen

Fear too is a weapon, when you can’t stop the world
Because it’s too costly to do so, and you can’t
Tell the world not to fly because we’re too free
We left Africa a long time ago, but who among us
Would stand 20 meters from their open graves?
Wuji Seshat Oct 2014
The bleeding has no bias
From the Congo to Dallas
The days of waiting, the Fever-soar
The African corpses were out

Of view, from the World’s eyes
If a sneeze can defile
Ebola can ride airplanes
Traverse Seas, all through

Your plastic gloves, your pores
Contagious still with death
Your fear may taste the curse
A thousand dead more, a common ache

The bleeding has no bias
Jesus will not bring you back from the Dead
We have to walk through Hell alone
They say, I have no more words

The bleeding has no bias
No funding, on protocol that works
The virus rages on, splitting old scars
Of what it means to be from the

Old continent, of what it means to be black
And the coughing up of more blood
Where paranoia and fear are conditions
As common as kindness and hospitality here

The panic of believing a silent enemy
Can catch you without you knowing
These are the days of waiting
These are when the numbers soar.

— The End —