She taught me that if the first one isn't just right try again
She also taught me that each try that you risk could be fatal or peaceful
She taught me you can't walk into the beast's home without being aware of it

I want to be super me

Shave off my eyebrows
as an act of demolition
leave no roots to grow
let sweat beads know
this is a law of prohibition
against the curse
I want to be the last one on earth
and yet the first
to birth a warrior generation
all colors
all sizes
all shapes
and variations
of a people whose DNA serves as an abbreviation
of perfect

Simply

I want to love without working

I want to kiss the thickly oiled
pus inhabitating pimpled t-zones of anglo saxon adolescent girls
and tell them they’re beautiful
just after they’ve reached out and grabbed one of my locs
only to ask me if my natural hair is artificial

I want to eat lunch with the friendless 14 year old boy
caged in elementary special ed class
Immediately following him walking me
arms pinned
in front of the boys during recess
asking them how should he **** my ***

I want to tell him of a Savior
That can mold him greater than his absentee father
or molesting godmother that has affected his behavior

I want to wrap my arms of comfort around the shoulders of every insecure woman
that was confident enough to tell me
men would only see me as ***
but never as beautiful
I want to reach my go-go-super me hand in
and choke the life out of the wormy wretched murderous spirit
that eats their lives
I want to starve its lies
leaving it to die by granting the grace of a new name
befriend them with but a call and response game-

Me: “those who look to HIM are radiant!”
Them: “their faces are never covered with shame!”


I want to sound the finger snap
hand clap heard round the world
while giving a standing ovation
to all of the open mic night writers that hid their jagged daggers in a cloak of being truthful
saying my words and antics scored high for the stage
But for the page
this thing I should think twice about calling poetry
would never ever be suitable

I want to carry the little white boy on my hip while singing
The rendition of “You Are My Sunshine” that I sing to my kids
just after he hurls “******” in my direction
in a vile attempt to reduce me from perfection
I’ll teach him that the coned sheet his father keeps neat
and breaks out for story time at night is but a cry for help
that the most important thing he could ever do with his life
is to recognize others as his brothers and sisters
and to love them even as he would love himself
I’ll tell him communication isn’t erasable
and before he speaks he should remember to care
I’ll give him a lollipop
then fly through the galaxy to land on a planet
where I’ll purchase every CD created featuring John Mayer

I’ll speak and smile at every cop
That’s harassed brown people

I’ll drop an offering in the basket of preachers
that think I can’t deliver the Word
because as a woman in ministry
I’m not equal

If mine eyes can see my shell’s end
I’ll make love to my husband
in a way his second wife would never be able to transcend
even if earlier it was his day off
but instead of living it with me
he chose to leave me alone with our kids

If loving without working is tough as a glass jar of vlasic dill pickles
I want to pop the lid

As soon as offenses are committed
my earnest desire is to be super me

I want simply

to easily


FORGIVE.

welcome to houston texas
we roll swangas n swishers
we might hit cha
with the torch
if ya dont know where ya stand
in the ghetto we never let go
of painful memories
we got brothers get shot by cops
to brothers getting got
by they own i try not to led a path of sin on my own
phone home
soon to be at the crossroads
knockin at thugs mansion door
got **** how did i get smoked
i thought i was backed by my locs
now im sittin with malcolm
and martin n garvey
enjoying a smoke
wish i could reach deep into the pains
of black folks brain
and let em know
we used to be kings n queens
but **** dont flipped
once they change the color of the script
but ***** i peep game since i was embryo
last of a dying breed corrupt seed
we can changr indeed
we just gotta change waht our minds feed
but we too intrigue
from the worlds scent
a ghetto ih


now that've got your intention
lets form a syndication
reform strategize black nation
we all brothers from haitan to jamacian makin
nothing but flawless beats
smokin swisher sweets at the swap meet
or better yet the bayou classic
listenin to magic
1 0 2 point one everybody having fun
without the use of a gun
buts ther3s always one
that wanna start ****
got his wig split
now take a picture for yo casket
wish times wasnt so hard
but im always on the guard
sneaky *** white supremacy
pushin gay antics
miss with that semantic
yall aint slick
so let me hit ya with some of the realist
rhymes that make up for the crimes cuz im
tired of this ****** poor livin
everyday sinning
no winning stuck at a permenant loss
but somehow my soul still grows
even though the world be a ghetto the ghetto

A permanent commitment of growth
Strength knowledge and wisdom waxed and positively twisted into the main stream.

Unique & rare is what you are to society. Bold and brave is what you stand for.
A lioness leading this jungle like world, marking her presence to protect not harm.

Informally blindsided by you. You remain loyal to your pack as I roam searching to return to mine and be home.

I'm just trying to find my purpose
Isn't that the theory behind what our time here is?

And when I leave here let it be with no fear.
Not on my knees begging please,
But on my feet like a beast!

This is me. Here I am. Hear me ROAR.
Watch me soar. See me fly. Or pass me by.
I don't have time for the negative,
It's draining mental sedative.
I need that progressive ****.
Sapiosexual. Heavy Mentalist.

Learn not to speak when you should listen
Like when your creep'n at the corner
and your mom's in the kitchen.
Drop'n that real knowledge
The kinda stuff they didn't teach in college.

Facts I'll keep with me for life
Because somehow I didn't know what she ment
but I knew she was right.

Yeah yeah, mom was right.
She said **** ain't easy and **** gets tight.
You gottah learn to roll with the punches
Follow your hunches.

Do what make you happy
even if that means excessive fat jeans. (Eat, eat)
Let them call your hair *****.
Because little do they know tangled in these curls
Is a good *** leave in conditioner,
And the heart of a girl

Who's as strong as her locs
Who just doesn't know when to stop.
Who isn't afraid to top rock, knock down her obstacles.

Hulk ******, clear vision

Though I'll be honest,
Sometimes I don't know what to seek
It always seems to be hiding.
But I know, what ever it is I'll be sure to find it.

I now recognize my youth
she hasn't been gone long
more recently
ending of one
begin a new song
I understand what happened to my mom.

my youthful days were free
in a way they no longer are.
yet freer today still.
motherhood and maturity,
marriage and low energy purging,
self imposed isolation for healing
and not really sleeping
have aged me.

not physically as much
though I see the crows feet
creeping in quietly
they don't bother me
passed through family,
lines my brow can sustain.

these babies remind me of my youth
times of a quieter mind
and a deeper desire to travel.
now all I daydream of is roots.
the underground is astounding.

my locs keep growing
rooted at the crown
I feel the beat pumping out
the essence is vibrating
causing me to giggle
youthful in my soul.

my locs grew up with me
we continue to mature
rooted together, they extending outward
an extension of my being.
tentacles that develop meaning
and develop me.

and with each development
the youthful cloak
gets thinner and lighter
translucence promised
as the days pass by.
this life's lessons heavy handed
on the front end.
pure passion for each message to come
only gratitude and love to my youth
She,
the master of my mind.

Closet freak..
As the lust in my eye turns into pure fantasies of how I want me on you in the most compromising positions...
Stroke game on repeat as these walls begin to beat on your meat...
Eyes closed because no witness to confess this sticky mess..our souls is on fire and this love making has turn into a straight **** fest...
Faster as my emotions begin to cloud my better judgement...**** it...i want you..
Is an UNDERSTATEMENT..let's see if you can keep up...
Under me...Is how you're gonna be...
stat is how I'm cumm'n
E..every inch touching my deepest spots
Ment...ally seeing you hitting it from da back..this is ***..straight ****** on a new level.
Pull my locs as I **** your **** maybe you'll pop as I look in your eyes because you and I both know what this mouth can and will do for you..**** my pain away...hips rocking ...and they say a big girl couldnt keep up...well they cant compete with an arch like this...make em weak at each peak...now say my name..because you're all mines..on a new level confession of a closet freak!
Nikki.the.goddess

Sitting on trains plastered in rainbows
Hues of the fairest gray periods
Heart tired
Eyes glued
My grandmother always said not to stare...

I got caught in the naps of his hair
His 6 foot awesomeness
Maybe he's texting about business
His holiday arrangements...
Maybe his locs long for her

Maybe he tells her she's amazing
That he cant wait to see her
He'll kiss away her fears
Install the mirage of his emotions
Hold her, rub her back
3:00 am "you're beautiful"
Dreams of morning oral soliloquys...

Awakened by his agenda
She's remissed she couldn't wake earlier
To spend those last moments glancing out
Into the moments paradigm
To play a lil' house within his eyes ...

Suddenly
A faint streak of saliva on her cheek
muah
He's off...

She walks into the lavatory
Wondering why the hell the bathroom light's on...

LP

I keep running, running, running
A young girl trying to find her place in the world
A grown woman trying to be respected for who she really is
I look back at the past and
Down on the present
And hope to God that the future gives me something to look up to
Family curses trink’ling trails of hate in my blood
Reminders of loved ones who were hurt by ones they loved once
Inspirations inspiring me to keep chasing my dreams but reality is …reality
I wake up and wonder what proactive thing I can do today
But reality is reality.
And reality smacks me down and says “nothing”
I’m not a pessimist but I bear a weight with the wield of the world as its stamp
Its not on my back but its on my sisters’ back. It not in my home but its in my brothers’ home
Reverberating in my mind the terrible wonders of the world
Feeling ignorant, not knowing how to help
I read the world news to find out what to do
And lo’and behold a “disabled puppy can only walk in circles”
WHAT?!
Darfur must be a myth and I guess AIDS isn’t “in” anymore
I keep thinking..wait till I’m established
Wait till I’m out of this rut
My life will be holy and pure and intelligent. giving and tithing and..happy and busy…and.. **** and rich?
Cause that’s how it should be right?
Confusing
Why cant I be a soul sistah with locs that likes to listen to rock and give spoken word wearing knit hats and demanding answers? Then go home and maybe watch some anime.
I’m conflicted
I’m disdainful
I’m selfish
I’m vehemently out to get what I want because my forefathers died trying to get it for me
And you know what? I’m gonna get it, because while all this crap goes on in my brain and in my heart , in my family and in the world. Its going to stay at my heels because I keep running, running, running

I forgot to stop by the post again
But the kitchen is already burning.
The walls are aging in bursts of thick black wrinkles
That roll
Like the unsteady jiggle of jumping baby legs.
They are begging for steady wrists.
And kiss.
The pinch
And **** routine
Of freshly minted aunties.
You see, I couldn't find an envelope anywhere.
So this foil gone have to do.

This aluminum ain't no ruse.
Ain't no poetic device
Manifested in the silver breasted
Flesh.
I swear
I had this whole thing
planned out differently.  

Me, a gray storm of locs
Running beneath morning's chin,
Wishing you safe travels
From the boat of her collar bone.
You, a memory tucked
Inside my favorite tooth.
The two of us,
A tuft of life only separated
By a mountain
Called Heaven.
I had planned on helping you climb  
This one day.
But the kitchen is already burning.

Tomorrow, that journalist you look up to
Will write
About how another one of our daughters
Painted herself visible.
And she gone wonder why.
In this foil, rests my skin. You give this to her.
Here, X marks the spot.
Tell her that if this skin
Is such a gem worth fighting for,
She can keep it.

Head spinning
Hands trembling
Body ready to give up
Tears rolling down in streams faster and faster

Mind confused
Lips quivering
Emotions all over the place
Doesn't know whether to feel betrayed or hate

Infuriated with everyone and everything
Thoughts were scrambled everywhere
Her brown curly locs no longer cascaded down her back
It now masqueraded her face

She wanted to be embraced
Wanted to feel like she felt before
Not this feeling, that she was foreign to
Her quiet gasp, her salty tears, and struggling whispers
She grabbed her chest and asked what is this ?

You can't put her in a box,
the walls'll collapse each attempt
beneath her choice of locs to rock
Visions voices no relent
Of overcoming lifes struggles
Those with surviving
and those within
Ridin along while it plays out
She don't care to fit in          
She gon do it how she want
**** who & whatever she please
Shittin on every I'll wish
And she does it with ease

Dancing on the mangled
corpse of Jupiter, we recall
nothing but revelry. I wonder
about God and summer and
poor boyish ignorance.

There are eggshells in my hair,
or maybe they simply are
my locs. Snapping like shedskin,
left and right, they are an offering.
Divining me, divining you.

Pan-fried resistance,
Your tongue beckons
I am a celestial body
blindly hopping galaxies;
Devour me.

Here's a poem that I wrote the other night at late o'clock while working my usual midnight shift. Personally I think this is one of my best pieces because I usually don't write stuff like this, I call it "sappy" haha but thats just because I'm such a boy sometimes. Anyway, I like this because I'm a little less inhibited in this piece and you guys get to catch me being girlie. Hope ya like it.

I WANT LOVE. I want late o'clock conversing that leads into morning. I want your aspirations to become ours. I want to lay in the security of strong arms and broad shoulders.
I want good days and bad days and great days and drama and I want love.Love thats deep and blue with strings and knots and ropes and braids and faith and trust, you know?
I want my own key for cloud nine.
I want love recursive because it's too close to perfect not to do it again.skin meeting skin.
hands meeting hips
Lips meeting lips feet in the air and locs in the wind.
Love that embraces what I embrace and you embrace and the differences between them.
I want to study the map in the palm of your hands and follow it and create new destinations. I want the painting we'll create when our complexions are twisted together, then another and another.
I want altruism, recklessness, spontaneity, pure concentrated freshly squeezed love with extra pulp.
And I think 'pulp' is an ugly word but I want love so good that I just might wake up one morning and write a song for pulp because all o'sudden everything's beautiful.
I WANT prayed-up non-perverted divine order love.
Love that ascends and evolves; that challenges scientists, intrigues mathematicians, and inspires artists. I want love, and as far as I'm concerned that is the only way it comes.
Sharde' Fultz 3:56 am Aug.31 @wk

A bitter taste so bitter sweet
From what I can see that’s no description of me
Small locs and edgy face
It may be love but it’s bitter taste
I’m so confused and I never should question
What was your intentions of making this happen
As it creeps up
Try my hardest to play it cool
Flashbacks and flashbacks
From the corner of my eyes I can tell it’s you
Not so sudden not so quick
No you can’t have me like this
A bitter taste
Such a sour feel
I see images of a reflection laughing at me
Got a taste of refreshness
And still it never put my mind at ease
Greed
So selfish when we’re involved
I should’ve known this love had a strong hold
One that would never be divided
I don’t know why I tried it
With every step I’m cringing
Because how I feel I cannot hide it
Go far away from me
Even at a millions miles
I don’t wanna try it
I cannot get away
Set my mind at ease I no longer crave your presence
Cause it takes control over me
No control over my mind, thoughts and actions
Everytime I see you I get sweaty and nervous
Why do you torture me do you do it on purpose
But so long and goodbye
Easier said then done
I let you go but I know you won’t be gone for long
I say I want you gone but it’s fatal attraction
We no good for each other but we even better together
So long friend I won’t write another letter
This bitter taste in my mouth
Seem to have made me better

you hear my song
as the wind blows
it sings tunes
of generations past
times before record,
that were necessary
for now.

my song whistles
through
corridors of rock
races with the geese
drifts through a monarchs form
provides space for the hummer
its wings buzz
moving faster than my mind.

****   ****    ****
the bell welcomes my song
it touches me with
vibrations
I am tuned to.
which radiate down and out
along the locs
through to the soil
nourishing my
mind,
her smile.

the pitch of my song
depends on the medium
in the dawn and dusk
low and warm
at noon
charged to sing
inspirational seeds
so they can sprout, and
be left alone.
to send her children
into the wind
and then turn to dirt.

this is my song
wind song
bits of me release themselves
are carried off with the wind.
commune with bits of you
and ancestors,
circle the sphere
wisp through bamboo,
I breath again.
I taste you.
I breath the molecules,
out again.
they start their path
with the wind
again.
recombined, except argon.
the one wholly breathed
since the beginning
the wind will circle it
around until the end.
these bits of consciousness
will touch every lung
that needs it
connecting everything that is it.
I hear my song...

She built big and pretty
Got those wild ***** locs
Driving coils in her spring
She make what she got good
and plenty of it because
she know she comes from an old
divinity and in her roots
Come raging like a God with ashy skin
But she clean and got nature
on her side
and the cocoa butter smells real nice
She is the salt
the earth, the storms and as sacred as
the wind
Remember this always...always

HIS
EVERTYHING
RIGHT

Wanting you has left my soul suffocating...
Never realizing the length I would go to please you.. guilty by submission..becoming submissive inspite of me not belonging to you..pleasing you always came first..but for you its H.E.R...you say you prefer natural hair...I grew locs in spite of my free spirit that leads me to do a big chop annually...because to me that's me removing all the bad reminders...but for you I made that scarfice..inspite of you wanting H.E.R .....blemished skin...scars of heartache and pain...proclaiming you prefer naturally flawed..over  this mac bottle that makes me feel completely irresistible because unlike other things it hides scars of what made me who I am...but for you I allow this bottle to go untampered with..unlike my heart always being tampered with...but H.E.R...is constantly on your mind.. never taking a moment to realize me putting you first...your only thoughts is of ....H.E.R..how to please and cater to H.E.R every desire...and need... "she has potential to make you happy"...when it's me that constantly strive to make you happy...consistantly taking you in deep until my muscles become weak...I can't compete...because even though I get on my knees and **** you deep...I'm still not H.E.R...and just because I made you ***** in one of your many random places...in fear of pro life with M.E because its H.E.R you desire..I've allowed my soul to weep...because by next week I'll be back in your sheets... giving you all of me...like a piece of prime meat..enough of me to fill what makes you weakkk..never understanding you want me mentally but her psychically...but she doesn't want you psychically...so you imagine H.e.r while doing M.e?  I'm done with never being enough... but always too much for you...let her learn or care to know that you like a person that listens..you're a closed book..that pays attention to vivid detail..you do from the heart with happiness as a form of payment...liking your women of somewhat of a variety but not too much of a variety because if you lived in a world of H.E.R.'s you would be completely satisfied because her outer is what sets your soul on fire...allowing yourself to linger on what little she's gives because she's da bomb in everyway..bomb enough for you to hurt the feelings of someone that would've given you the world..but because my **** ain't "perky" and I'm not a size 8 my validation..means nothing....being super thick is more superficial..I'm self reliant..thick in all the right places..constantly loving you in all the wrong places....I'm not H.E.R I am M.E....My Everything on repeat...repent at my feet because my heart has always been on repeat...you have made me weak...we haven't spoken in weeks...
Nikki.the.goddess

She doesn't like to talk much when we're together. She's too busy thinking of him while I'm stroking her head, thinking of her. She twists and she turns, contorts herself into something desirable, because she doesn't believe for a second that she's already something desirable. At least, not to someone she loves. She paints her face, not to enhance the existing masterpiece, but to create a new one altogether. 'the muse,' she says smiling at me through the mirror, covered in self loathing and insecurity 'i have to look good for him, like me, but not me' she folds her luscious locs into waves of pity and hurt and she covers her scars and body with too tight tshirts and scarily short shorts, which is different from her usual "hipster ******" look. She loves baggy clothes. He prefers no clothes. I love her the way she is. I beg her not to change who she is, which is only ever met by anger and resentment. She thinks I love him too, that I want to ruin their chance to be together. I want to tell her she's beautiful, that she reminds me of the sunrise at 6am in summer, when the air is warm and dewy and when just a sliver of sunlight brightens your whole day. Because she is my sun, my moon, my whole universe. She is the centre and I can only gravitate around her in awe. These are the things I want to tell her, but she'd never speak to me again. She doesn't like to talk much when we're together. She's too busy thinking of him.

Whenever I see a sunflower I think of you. No matter where we lived, in the summers you’d bend your back to the earth beside our porch step and you’d raise magnificent flower beasts with their rough stalks, edible seeds, and gentle yellow petals, sometimes it seemed you cared more for them than you did for me.
Whenever I smell peaches I think of you. Not real peaches, but that dollar store lotion you would buy. You stopped wearing it after your sixth child, after your light grew dim, and we thought it died. I found an empty bottle of this lotion in the heaps of our rubble on yet another evicted moving day, its plastic insides held the smell of you before you started to hide. And in my garbage bag suitcase I hid your memory away so that I could find you again at the next place.
Whenever I cross a mosaic path it stirs an image of you breaking glass, pressing transparent cuts of colors to wet cement slabs, I would revel in awe of your art, your makeshift thrown-together crafts, and now I can not sit in a church beneath stained glass without your face replacing mother Mary, but I am no Christ figure, and you are not so Holy.
Whenever I see a drawing of the sun I think of your tattoo. A black flaming sun, eclipsing the spider beneath its place, chiseled into the bark on your back. Is this the same spider you saw above my cradle as I slept? You say it was a massive thing, crawling toward me, stopping you dead in your tracks. You say this spider popped into a puff of crystal spects, that you ran to me and saw nothing but a resting baby. It took you years to finally cover the spider on your back, but when you finally set the sun in its place you forgot color from your blaze and cut in the black. Maybe this is why I was born with embers in my hair, my locs are the ancient flame you lost from your belly. My sheath, my skin, pale porcelain, can only thrive when kept out of the sun’s sight. Did you tattoo yourself with this in mind?
This whole world reminds me of you. This is both good and bad. I could have never avoided your poison, less I were never born. You gave me nightmares and lost my heart in boxes every time we moved. You showed me bright colorful beautiful things, like the mosaic glass, I first saw you lay it out in patterns catholic saints would admire, and with the very same shattered frame you cut your face in front of me. That was a horrible scene, but it taught me something. That suffering and beauty can have a thin line between, that tragedy can become the art only I can bring. I know from you, my only true mother, that people are both good and bad, that the world is forever holy and evil all at once, and that there is nothing one can do to prevent casting great pain onto those we love the most, but of all these extremes and places in between the only thing that exists on every plane is the love we have for each other.

reggae music blasted at outrageous levels,
for her to be hearing it loud and clear
from 20 houses away, though, they do stand
shoulder to shoulder, to be fair.

she snuck out her back door to the roof,
and she didn't mind the tunes that night.
she sipped on fresh mango juice and
watched her ackee tree sway in the moonlight.

she played in her messy, ***** locs
but was soon interrupted by her worst fear.
her aunt had just locked up her way back in
and if she didn't hurry, she'd be stuck out there.

it's hard to rush down a zinc roof quietly,
especially with darkness hindering her sight.
then, of course, a coconut fell with a crash
and her focus was replaced with fright.

she slipped and hit the roof with bang,
then just laughed with dried leaves in her hair.
it was definitely a crash her parents would hear,
so she was probably in trouble but she didn't care.

she layed there in defeat, waiting for angry dad,
the roof would be banned, but that was alright,
as she listened to the reggae, she had no regrets,
because she made a hilarious memory that night.

29.04.20

M: You so petty like Tom be
Roaming around the earf like a zombie

P: You so petty like Tom be,
Roaming round the earth like a zombie clad in Abercrombie
Shut up, Fitch.
Pitchin a fit like a tone-deaf finch singin out of pitch, lickin a wack *** riff
Lost in space, trippin tha rift
Ya'll won't dig what I spit, but you could at least sift through the remnants

M: Here's your penance for the Cubs winning the pennant
Shut up man, you're no John Lennon
If you was a car, I'ma say you'd be a Lemon.
Here's my lime, it's a rhyme that I wrote in no time
About how crime can pay well if you do it right

P: It's time to plunder and plight, I'm full of blunder and spite
The Boy Wonder, I'm a robbin and I'm about to take flight
The crowd be clappin thunder all night
I'm slinging lightning, that's right
I'm Zeus, you're Hades and we'll be warring for the spotlight.
I may be a hater, but you're my hatee and the boss' order is:
Don't quit your day job, just keep on workin your nine to five.

M:I'm deep in the slime call me a Muck raker,
**** taker, but I never really give em though
Not a nice dude, but I've never really hit a ***
Kinda wonder why I ever really spit a flow in the first
Flow is absurd, crow is a bird, and they're murderous.

P:The rhyme is evolutionary, **** man, but what's a Muk to a Grimer?
Ya'll amateur rappers are just slappin paint on the canvas without a primer
There's no substance to your "art", I'll see your Trap and raise you a Hip Hop, cross the streams and blow up like Slimer.

Ya'll just some nickel and dimers tryin to hold up a dime store so you can pick up that dime sack that you're trying to afford.

The kind of fools ain't nobody got time for.
I've ascended Mt. Olympus, you ******* need to learn how to climb more.

M: Climb up, climb down, or don't climb at all
Don't listen to those try-hards,
Watch Die Hard again and then give me my vengeance.
You ever do penance? If not that'll cost ya six pence
And I need that **** quick since I already spent it.
Rap Game Tom Selleck.

Tom Hanks is a real person
Celebrities are real people.
I wish everyone would just feel people
Not like corporeally, but emotionally worth it.
Sober immaculate cut the tension with a hatchet.

Black people hate me cause I say I'm not racist
So I guess they just hate cause they faithless

P: Do not mistake the faithless with the tasteless,
But before I screech all my beliefs, let's just sink back into the cool relief of giving praise tot he great King Nostalgia.

Welcome to Good Burger, hey remember Hans Gruber, let's watch re-runs of Law & Order?

Your girl gobblin up my junk, call her **** Wolf.
More sinister than any Stallone villain, call me Mister Dolf Lundgren
Nerdier than any dragon or dungeon.
Dirtier than any old man askin his waitress for more sugar packets so he can drop em on the floor and watch her bend over.

Red Rover, Red Rover, this verse should already be over, but I cant stop reading this Buzzfeed article telling me the 5 best lines from Crimson and Clover


M: Prolly skips like a *****.
Worth the risk.
It's curious, facts
When all I spit are spurious raps
I'm furious, Jack
Like I am jacks unbridled sound of fury since my patience is tried but with nobody on the jury
It's hard to define if I should be
Calm or Worried

P: My destiny is sittin right next to me, but I can't pick it up cuz it's too **** heavy.
I get a grip, my muscles rip, it's stuck tot he ground because I am Unworthy
How unfortunate that I made it all the way here, just to find out I can't lift up Mjolnir.

Or maybe it's a trick of the mind, I'm a victim of fear.
Maybe it's time to let my senses unwind and focus only on what is near.
It's time to make a profit off of what my prophet holds dear in his lockett, instead of settling for a Stepford Career.

Gouda is good, and Cheddah is bettah, but I'm to to make some of that Gruyere.

M: Gruyere, Camembert
List the cheeses til you're Jesus man,
Talking like you even know a lil piece of the Jesus man's plan.
I think if any of us knew it wouldn't even really please us fam,
Cause absolute knowledge is pain,
Actually growing is lame, and all we are is ever in between two planes of existence
So find the path with little resistance.

P: My prophet ain't Jesus, do you capiche this?
God's plan ain't nothin but a back-up like a clogged drain, or where the food came
that hadn't been chewed enough by the backward's spelling of the man himself.

D-O-G

Lookin for his bounty, but I'm a gatherer not a hunter
So you best expect that I'll be laid to rest in peace while you're still suffering from the disease of lying through your teeth.
Best BELIEVE!
Of my Philosophy, you can not conceive.
Whether or not you've thrown away your virginity doesn't decide whether you're imprisoned or free.

To be free costs a fee, but the sinnin is free.
It don't make no sense to me, so I consult my sensei who says to **** down a sasparilla, smoke some sensimillia, and tuck my head between my knees
Until the atomic wind has passed and I'm left to enjoy the cool breeze.
*******! Literally.
What if God was one of us?
He'd probably sob because of what he's done.
But with no consequence his reign will run.
Check the mic, make sure it's not a gun

M: Nuclear winter is chill boss
As your lawyer I need to tell you to lay off the pills boss put them ***** back in the pill box dude
all theology is toxic really and western ideology is very jesus-centric even though dude was basically just a fasting eccentric

Oops the mics been a glock this whole time and the safety broke long ago prolly round the time the patriarchy spoke up and plotted the embargos

P: Oh, well, I guess we gotta ditch the stolen cargo
Form something new and see hor far it goed
Don't be distracted by the hard blows, I mean, the blowhards
Look no further than your own hand to see if your success is in the cards.

**** WE NEED TO DO THIS EVERY DAY
WE'LL BE UNSTOpPABLE

I mean you're alread nine million miles ahead of my ***,
I've been cruisin in coach and blah blah first class
Similies and poetry are base to me
I want to talk about philosophy in non-interpretable terms make the common people squirm in their nikes
Only a capitalist society can bring true revoltion, but the truth is no one really wants it even the revolutionaries are scared of what change do they want enough trainers so they can change shoes and listen to the blues to feel like feeling is real when it's really just a memory of something unlearnable.

P: Hey Nike, he likes it
Oops, I blew it,
I meant Just Dew The Dew it.
Obey the corporate propaganda, don't see through to the blue skin dudes n ****.
Throw them Locs on

M: Someone ******* **** me already cause I can't do it by myself
Cause I don't do illegal ****, I keep my trophies on a shef
In the basement in a house that nobody but the bank owns
Let me get some dank loans so I can open up a bank, holmes

Don't burn me, I'm tryin earnestly to fix ****
I don't believe in magic but I believe in possibility
which I guess is really just the same thing as magic when you get down to it
I'm trying to draw a circle on a chalkboard and jump right through it
I went t the school of truant bibliophiles the curriculum:
wild the teachers were posters of feral beasts with logos and copyright laws
I bet Gandhi quotes are trademarked, you dumb Marxist

P: Holmes, like the detective, but people never give enough respect to the perspective of the Watson.
Just give me that watch son, and keep on walkin
Betta hope I got all that I want, son, and don't decide to shoot you in the back and split you open like a sidewalk crack that'll give your mom a spinal tap when you cross it.

All you hear is a cocked back gat and then a BOOM BOOM BAP like the bass drum got brought back to like 2011
While your soul decides if heaven is really worth it,
Then your spirit will snap back into your body like nothing ever hurt it.
Rebirth it.

M: Like D.C did that
I'm post P.C. syntax
I bet I'd be a great dad screaming **** WHITEY cause white people hate that.
But that was actually a bad move making white folks uncomfortable
Cause more than half them reverted back to their most basest racist tendencies like two fold
Like who really holds the reigns really,
The work force is the horse and I'm a philly
Green is the universal race. Do you feel me?

Greed is the color of your mother's eyes while she hears the news on the phone of how your brother died cause otherwise it's your corpse of course you knew this already.

Anyways whatever man it's all pretty whatever man
Just be nice to people cause it's just better man.