Red bone
Yellow bone
Light skin
vanilla cone

I lick, I pull
Top notch women
ladies with some class
Call her Robin Givens

That girl is poison
if you talk to Michael Bivins
Her tongue out like Jordan
Clutch like Scottie Pippen

I'm the hero
but she settles for the villain
She's the common cold and
I am her penicillin.
© 2013

The Locker
by Michael R. Burch

All the dull hollow clamor has died
and what was contained,
removed,

reproved
adulation or sentiment,
left with the pungent darkness

as remembered as the sudden light.

Originally published by The Raintown Review

These are poems about sports like baseball, basketball, boxing, football and soccer. Keywords/Tags: Sports, locker, locker room, clamor, adulation, acclaim, applause, sentiment, darkness, light, retirement, athlete, team, trophy, award, acclamation



Ali’s Song
by Michael R. Burch

They say that gold don’t tarnish. It ain’t so.
They say it has a wild, unearthly glow.
A man can be more beautiful, more wild.
I flung their medal to the river, child.
I flung their medal to the river, child.

They hung their coin around my neck; they made
my name a bridle, “called a ***** a *****.”
They say their gold is pure. I say defiled.
I flung their slave’s name to the river, child.
I flung their slave’s name to the river, child.

Ain’t got no quarrel with no Viet Cong
that never called me ******, did me wrong.
A man can’t be lukewarm, ’cause God hates mild.
I flung their notice to the river, child.
I flung their notice to the river, child.

They said, “Now here’s your bullet and your gun,
and there’s your cell: we’re waiting, you choose one.”
At first I groaned aloud, but then I smiled.
I gave their “future” to the river, child.
I gave their “future” to the river, child.

My face reflected up, more bronze than gold,
a coin God stamped in His own image—Bold.
My blood boiled like that river—strange and wild.
I died to hate in that dark river, child.
Come, be reborn in this bright river, child.

Published by Black Medina, Bashgah (Iran, in a Farsi translation), Other Voices International, Thanal Online (India), Freshet, Formal Verse, Borderless Journal, Interracial Love, and in a YouTube video by Lillian Y. Wong

Note: Cassius Clay, who converted to Islam and changed his “slave name” to Muhammad Ali, said that he threw his Olympic boxing gold medal into the Ohio River. When drafted during the Vietnamese War, Ali refused to serve, reputedly saying, “I ain't got no quarrel with those Viet Cong; no Vietnamese ever called me a ******.” I was told through the grapevine that this poem appeared in Farsi in a publication called Bashgah.



Me?
Whee!
(I stole this poem
From Muhammad Ali.)
—Michael R. Burch



hey pete!
by michael r. burch

for Pete Rose

hey pete,
it's baseball season
and the sun ascends the sky,
encouraging a schoolboy’s dreams
of winter whizzing by;
go out, go out and catch it,
put it in a jar,
set it on a shelf
and then
you'll be a Superstar.

Pete Rose was my favorite baseball player as a boy; this poem is not a slam at him, but rather ironic commentary on the term “superstar.”



Baseball's immeasurable spittin’ mixed with occasional hittin’.—Michael R. Burch



Larry Seivers had golden hands
by Michael R. Burch

Larry Seivers had golden hands,
platinum hands,
diamond hands,
hands of jasper, sapphire, chalcedony, emerald, sardonyx, sardius, chrysolite, beryl, topaz, chrysoprase, jacinth and amethyst.

Other receivers were more elusive,
bigger,
faster,
more physical,
flashier ...

but Larry Seivers had hands. 



Julius
by Michael R. Burch

Instinct
in an unplanned moment
as you rise
will teach your limbs the art of flight:
the waltz of light
through vaulted skies.

A falcon flies:
its keening cries
as sunlight fails
fall hollow to the earth below,
and you must know
how fierce the light of sunset feels.

You hear
those ringing cries, their echoes clear
though far away, and so you pause
—defying even gravity,
suspended over some vast sea—
then fall ... into applause.



Larry Legend
by Michael R. Burch

He's slow, can't jump,
looks pale and plump.
He talks too much;
he brags, and such.
He's not real nice,
has blood like ice
and will like steel
(and steal he will).
But when the game is on the line,
your team, or mine?



Big Mc Attack
by Michael R. Burch

Johnny Mc
Enroe
is back—
the fierce
attack
of words
and serves,
returns
and taunts.

He flaunts;
he flails,
reviles
and rails.
Sometimes
he wails.
His ego
swells.
He grunts
and groans
and moans
and gee . . .
I think
he wants
to referee!

Johnny Mc
(thank God)
is back—
wisecrack
ing, fiery,
taking flack
(not hesitant
to give it back).

We love
to watch
him glare
and wince,
and since we sense
his dreams
(intense),
we sit
on pins
until
he wins.



For Jack Nicklaus, at the 1987 Open
by Michael R. Burch

When you were young
every putt was makeable
and every dream remarkable;
the stars were unmistakable
you set your sights upon.

Then, in your youth,
time not yet a factor
and age not yet your rector,
you plotted every vector
and victory shone ahead, like truth.

But uncouth youth was fleeting ...
soon losses grew more numerous;
time's skies became more cumulus;
the nerves with age—more tremulous,
as the sun from the sky was setting, retreating.

How have you then, as sunset nears
and the world looks on with unsure eyes,
cast off the crutch of age to rise
and stand as though the butterflies
have no effect, no, nor the cheers?



I wrote this poem after Tom Watson chipped in at the 1982 US Open to defeat Jack Nicklaus. Nicklaus was getting older, but he was still competitive.

There Are Dreams
by Michael R. Burch

for Jack Nicklaus

There are dreams
that you have dreamed
that are etched into your eyes.

There are dreams
that you have dreamed
that resignation can’t disguise.

There are dreams
that you have dreamed . . .
O, I’ve dreamed them, esteemed them.

Like fire,
desire
flares most brightly as it dies.



Jimbo
by Michael R. Burch

for Jimmy Connors

Pounce like a panther,
all sinew and nerve;
attack, arched in anger,
your quarry—the serve.
Imagine a moment
of glory to come
as you lunge for the path
of its flight through the sun.

Are you a Templar
like warriors of old,
forsaking your loved ones,
crusading for gold?
Or could it be
need for fame drives you on?
Do you soak up the cheers
as you dash through the sun?

As you battle those younger,
those stronger, more fleet,
still none can be fiercer,
less yielding, complete.
Oh, what drives you onward,
what makes you compete?

I think not the riches, acclaim, even love . . .
but your heart is incentive enough.



The Great GOAT Debate
by Michael R. Burch

The great GOAT debate
can no longer wait:
we MUST know who’s best, and know NOW!

Is it Jordan, Kareem,
or Hakeem the Dream?
Is it Gretzky, the Rocket, or Howe?

Is it O.J. or Brady,
or are they too shady?
Tom Burleson or Monte Towe?

But now that I’m thinking
and done with my drinking,
before I make friends with a large purple cow ...

It’s the Babe, let’s get serious!
Babe Didrikson Zaharias!
Let the Ultimate GOAT take a bow.

Mildred Ella “Babe” Didrikson Zaharias was a basketball All-American, a baseball and softball star, a professional golfer who accumulated ten major championships, and a track and field legend who won two gold medals and a silver in three different disciplines at the 1932 Olympics while setting four world records in the process. She was also an expert diver, roller-skater, bowler and billiards player. Didrikson won the 1932 AAU track and field team championships while competing as an individual, by winning five of the eight events she entered and finishing second in another. She remains the only track and field athlete, male or female, to have won individual Olympic medals in a running event (hurdles), a throwing event (javelin), and a jumping event (high jump). Despite taking up golf in her mid-twenties and having to wait until age 31 to regain her amateur status, Didrikson won 17 straight women's amateur tournaments, an unequaled feat. Altogether, she won 82 golf tournaments. She made the cut at two men’s PGA golf tournaments, the only woman to do so, and she did it sixty years before any other woman even tried. In 1934 exhibition games, after being taught the curve ball by Dizzy Dean, she pitched one scoreless inning against the Dodgers and two scoreless innings against the Indians. Didrikson still holds the world record for the longest baseball throw by a woman. The world has never seen anyone like her.

“She is beyond all belief until you see her perform ...Then you finally understand that you are looking at the most flawless section of muscle harmony, of complete mental and physical coordination, the world of sport has ever seen.” – Grantland Rice, considered by many to be the greatest sportswriter of all time



Ring-a-Ling Bling
by Michael R. Burch

The ring
thing
is mostly bling.

Determining an individual athlete's greatness by counting championship rings (i.e., team success) makes no sense to me and seems disrespectful to all-time greats like Ernie Banks, Charles Barkley, Elgin Baylor, **** Butkus, Ty Cobb, Michelle Kwan, Karl Malone, Dan Marino, Marta (who may be the greatest female soccer player of all time), Barry Sanders, John Stockton, Fran Tarkenton and Ted Williams. Perhaps the best example is the player most cited for rings these days: Michael Jordan. In reality, Jordan didn't win a ring his first six years and was 0-6 against
the Larry Bird Celtics and lost two more playoff series to the Isiah Thomas Pistons. Were Bird and Thomas the better players, or did they simply have better teams? The answer seems obvious.
Jordan only began to win rings after he was joined by outstanding players like Scottie Pippen, Horace Grant, et al, and even then it took time for that team to jell. Jordan was a transcendentally great player before he won a ring. If he had failed to win rings because he never had good-enough teammates, would that make him a lesser player? Judging individuals by team success or failure makes no sense, unless Jordan was a lesser player for six years while his teams struggled and then he miraculously became the GOAT when more capable players showed up. Ditto for LeBron James. The first thing he does after changing teams is use his influence to get better players to join him. LeBron is not foolish enough to believe rings are won by individuals.



The Ring Thing (is entirely Bling)
by Michael R. Burch

The ring
thing
is entirely bling.

Michael Jordan was zero-for-six
against the Larry Bird Celtics;
moreover he was twice sent home
by Isiah’s Pistons;
his ring case only began to gleam
when he had Horace, Scottie and B.J. on his team.

Thus the ring
thing
is bling.



The Ballad of King Henry the Great
(aka Derrick Henry)
by Michael R. Burch

Long live the King!
Send him victorious,
happy and glorious,
long to reign over us:
Long live the King!

Long live the King!
Send him like Sherman tanks
Mowing down cornerbacks,
Stiff-arming tiny ants:
Long live the King!



No T.O.
by Michael R. Burch

Lines written after the aptly-named Eric Eager said, “A. J. Brown is Terrell Owens.”

I’m young, I’m big-hearted,
but I’m just getting started.

I’m running my own race
at my own **** pace.

T.O. belongs in fabled Canton town,
but I’m A. J. Brown.

The second stanza was actually written by A. J. Brown, a budding poet, and published in the form of a tweet.



Charlie Hustle
by Michael R. Burch

for Pete Rose

Crouch at the plate,
intensity itself.

Follow the flight
of the streak of white
with avid eyes
and a heartfelt urge
to let it fly.

Sweep the short arc,
feel the crack of a clean hit,
pound the earth
toward first.

Edge into the base path,
eyes relentlessly relentless.

Watch his every movement;
feel his every thought;
forget all save his feet;
see him stretch
toward the plate ...
and fly!

Fly along the basepath
churning up the dirt,
desire in your eyes.

Slide around the outstretched glove,
hear the throaty cry,
"He's safe!"
And lie in a puddle of sunlight
soaking up the cheers.

A Texas Leaguer dropping
to the left-field side of center
sends you on your way back home.

Take the turn past third
with fervor in your eyes
and a fever in your step,
the game just strides away ...
take them all and then
slide your patented head-first slide
across the guarded plate.

Pause in the dust of your desires,
loving the feel of the scalding sun
and the roar of the crowd.

Shake your head and tip your cap
toward the clouds.

Slap the dirt
from your grass-stained shirt
and head toward the clubhouse ...
just doing your job,
but loving it
because it is your life.

This was an early attempt at free verse, written in my teens.



The Sliding Rule
by Michael R. Burch

If you’re not quite kosher,
like Leo Durocher;
or if you have a Pinocchio nose,
like Peter Edward Rose;
or if your life turns tragic,
like Ervin Johnson’s magic;
or if your earthly heaven
is stopped, like Howe’s, at seven;
or if you’re a disciplinarian
like Knight, but also a contrarian;
or if like Joe you’re shoeless
because you’re also clueless;
or perhaps like Iron Mike Tyson
you work a little vice in;
or like Daly working the jackpot
you’re less unlucky than merely a crackpot;
or like Ruth you’re better at drinking
than at dieting and thinking;
or perhaps like Andre Agassi’s
your triumphs are really your tragedies . . .
though The Judge might call you a sinner,
society’ll proclaim you a WINNER!



Tremble
by Michael R. Burch

Her predatory eye,
the single feral iris,
scans.

Her raptor beak,
all jagged sharp-edged ******,
juts.

Her hard talon,
clenched in pinched expectation,
waits.

Her clipped wings,
preened against reality,
tremble.

Published by The Lyric, Verses Magazine, Romantics Quarterly, Journeys, The Raintown Review, Poetic Ponderings, Poem Kingdom, The Fabric of a Vision, NPAC—Net Poetry and Art Competition, Poet’s Haven, Listening To The Birth Of Crystals (Anthology), Poetry Renewal, Inspirational Stories, Poetry Life & Times, MahMag (Iranian/Farsi), The Eclectic Muse

Keywords/Tags: Tremble, predator, raptor, hawk, eagle, falcon, talon, beak, wing, preen, preened, preening



Y2k: The Score
by Michael R. Burch

You should have known
when you were giving us wedgies,
pulling down our pants
in front of the cheerleaders,
playing frisbee with our slide rules . . .

that the years are exceedingly cruel.

You should have seen,
dashing across the gridiron
(as the cheerleaders screamed
in a *****-show of ecstasy),
playing the hero, the bull-necked **** . . .

the hands on the face of the unimpressed clock.

Though you were popular,
the backseat Romeo, the star
who drove the flashiest car,
though you lived out our dream
and took the prettiest girls to the dances, the prom . . .

you never had a chance.  Something was wrong.

We missed the big dances and proms
as we hissed and we schemed,
as we wrote and re-wrote our revenge
while you partied like Stonehenge.
Now your business is in debt to the hilt.
It’s too late to cry: Foul! Unsportsmanlike! Tilt!

One statement of ours and yours are all lost!
Your receivables, aging and gathering dust,
will yellow like ***** one soon-coming day.
While you were scoring, you missed this play—

Jocks: Zero. Nerds: Y2k.



Ordinary Love
by Michael R. Burch

Indescribable—our love—and still we say
with eyes averted, turning out the light,
"I love you," in the ordinary way

and tug the coverlet where once we lay,
all suntanned limbs entangled, shivering, white ...
indescribably in love. Or so we say.

Your hair's blonde thicket now is tangle-gray;
you turn your back; you murmur to the night,
"I love you," in the ordinary way.

Beneath the sheets our hands and feet would stray
to warm ourselves. We do not touch despite
a love so indescribable. We say

we're older now, that "love" has had its day.
But that which Love once countenanced, delight,
still makes you indescribable. I say,
"I love you," in the ordinary way.

Winner of the 2001 Algernon Charles Swinburne poetry contest; published by The Lyric, Romantics Quarterly, Mandrake Poetry Review, Carnelian, Poem Kingdom, Net Poetry and Art Competition, Famous Poets and Poems, FreeXpression, PW Review, Poetic Voices, Poetry Renewal and Poetry Life & Times

Aiyo I rip out ya vocals and pendejos better get into their hidin' holes I'll swole ya corticals from my slick bicho that goes in and out ya girls throat
I got the remedy to enemies who think they can battle me I'll rip out ya veins
And play em like harp strings emcees my sub sibling keep it flows looped like an onion rings
That means I'm everlasting tongue blasting mics Slashin'
Ya every move frozen in silence I got a deadly alliance whos in defiance
I'm not human but bounded to nature cursed with the sinister forces made from gooey corpses
Necroplasm has em spazzin'
Scared of my magnificence born a punisher war brilliance ain't no resilience
So suckas better off in a bow the Kings back makin' racks only stick with facts get grimy on ol school tracks flashblack
Back to days of battlin' under dimmed lights and corded mics with bunch of rhymes to recite yeah
But I'm back again to make no amends condemn fake rappers with no grin joker mentality plottin' a fatality to critics who bother me get sweeped with bullet flow accuracy ya buried in a unmarked legacy

I'm second to none **** a bargain buryin' political jargon who can hang with the Don
Made of the Sun Moon and the stars far subpar do you know who we are?
Huh I'm alien breathing through flesh in the ghost of shell made for hell I'll never die I'll sail
Across the airwaves strike harder than tidal waves
Climbin' over fifty stories breakin' any category and critics who worry get Curry'd threes ways bullets close ya air way
Ain't no right way for death to pay
Truthfully told you find honor from the young and the old
Cuz fear has a broken vessel bearing through treshold
I'm hear to scold and unfold those who ain't feelin' mu flows get the pyscho American Style I'll snipe ya like Gomer Pile curse more than Kyle
In the southpark fools don't come to the dark
Only to see a spliff of my spark
I got a team of seven two trained demons ready to press ya head into the earthly grounds
Blood fillin' the soils from war spoils
I got pass the boil
Til I evaporated emcees til they ghosts ghost becomes fleshy My minds sickenin' strengthen go over critics like MJ and Pippen

Who can hang with the flow
None so suckas don't wanna go toe to toe
Blow for blow we shuttin' down any shows



Yo I be rippin'and then dippin'
Tearin' up emcees
Like slams of Scottie Pippen my clips in
Begins mad ******* static the stations
Once I step to the nation makin' innovations
My team's basically waiting invoking Satan
Many not Makin? Their moves ya vital signs leakin' homes
I'mma keep rappin' til in a funeral home
I'm makin' rap mortuaries to every body who get buried
And married into the afterworld it varies
Scenarios carry easily we hurry hotter than jamacian curry
Lookin' at my right hand my pistol grip pumpin'
Increase hearts ya jumpin' ivs dumping
Tryna keep you alive bumpin' all jive yo we always into something.....


My ****** rate dominate in all states undercover I'll annihilate
And humiliate to those that wanna test thier fates
I'm makin' casket crates three in a row seven each
That means twenty one bodies leach I preach
What I teach never a leech ya contracts breach
Eulogy given flows hit like Julius Jackson stickin'
Uppercuts from ya head to gut ya know what
We bout to do **** ya crew like soundview
Feel the blast spin around adversaries like Taz
Leave a destructive path death gets the last laugh
Powerful paragraphs that entice blood baths
Master the craft still layin' my grande shaft
A **** ero sick with the turntable beatin' labels
She feelin' on my cables my necklace ain't no checkin' this
Yo this ****** Ludacris number one spot I keep locked
Like an Alcatraz prison spiritually risen
Ya mentals genuflected from the music that christens

Who can hang with the flow
None so suckas don't wanna go toe to toe
Blow for blow we shuttin' down any shows

Yo tdogg, ya know what I'm about to, oh, jam on that *****,
Yeah my heads been loose, troubles cleaned with the goose,
Gray day, mayday mayday, always see a payday cuts by klay,
Thompson, always into somethin, catch the 10s bumpin,
DVDs with the 30 TVs, in my Benzie caught many frenzies,
In the clutch, doubt dutch, what thefuck is going on,
Yo all went wrong, so I gotta play the sad song, funeral home
From the black and silver chrome, now ya buried alone,
In the center zone, earth's now ya manger, faced with danger,
Ever since I seen a stranger, all facts no fiction, crucifixion,
Mayne listen, devils had me by my neck, close to hells kitchin,
Dodge the pitchin, of a heater, slide out home Derek Jeter,
Clean cut with the Caesar, lyrically I beat em all, rise to downfall,
Like the sunrise to sunset, shut down empty threats, so much regret,
Beggin, from my foes on they toes,expose armageddon,
Ain't no letting, up my guns see slash for fun, yo I'm bringing 'em
Catch the runs, ***** dripping, diarrhea style, from da rippin,
Mics crushed like Pippen, yo stay slamming them I'm dipping,
Out the scene,mad machine, mean as Gene, can you see the beam,
From the flash light,souls shining like a million lights,
Gass that, pass that, lyrical content I blass that,haters maskthat,
Hide ya face, what a disgrace, catch the cans of mase, oven
Tough loving, smooth hovering, ghost in the flesh, test
Ya will, you ain't got the heart to ****,yo I'm so real,
MJ thrills, from the bumps of my jeep you'll feel,blood spill,
See his body windmill, thrown in the Hoffa fields, stone cold deals,
Haters better chill, **** bout to get real, man ya steel,
I'm handy as randy, savage like my girls sweeter than candy,
On the hunt, like bonnie **** and stunny, now ya runny,
Bloods I bleed that, cant count that, money in too many racks,
I bomb with flows, octane remains, the highest in *******,
Prices, spit the nicest, flex the Lexus the hypest, who out ripe us,
Plus,the guns is a must, the reign cant stop mayne, flex the range,
Rove word to domino, put that on my nino, word to pastor Jenno,
I see more notes than Ben franklin, got em blanking, shankin,
Mack daddies, caddies 70s long body, move like an Audi,
Engineers these reindeer, games light my flame,my names  
Golden, chosen like the purest calf, these suckas make me laff,
Master my craft, of many of sweet nones, *** weighs a ton,
Still number one, public enemy sons, scope thru the media dons,
Used to wanna feel like Hollywood, Chaka khan and I'm gone,
**** songs, is what I do,freestyle near a theater, or a hood near you,
I spin too, donuts peelin', three sixty wheelin', shake heavens ceiling,
Keep the block hot, without touching spots, it dont stop,
Top ten gallon hat, while I'm in the stinkin' Lincoln, girls blinkin,
Cuz I'm looking so fly, ostrich seats, with the baddest beats,
Naw ya cant compete,I complete the madness that sweeps,
Like a broom, let off the scent ya perfume, up in the zoom,
See the vultures, pecking at ya skull culture, violence ultra,
Kin to the styles of capone, black Italian mafioso, oh so,
Clever, however I'll still endeavor, money over riches, kiss this,
Felix watches, catch the blotches, on ya spotless, for goodness,
Sakes, watch for the jakes, on the break, for hells sake,
I'm guarding even my own wake, see my funeral, with criminals,
Wild style, tiny gs to youthful juveniles, dont cry now,
Just shed a gun, blast itat the sun, so I feed my holy ones, cons
Cant step to the real reaper, let my wings fly by, now im in ya eye,
Stimulate fear, like its last day here, dark images will appear,
Hovering over the sinful lands, plot the plans, soul stand,
Amongst the loss, city of peasants, slave become pleasant,
But I'm the master waking up the presence, futures past,
Check the blast, dock ya by the rivers, once I delivers,
Magic, make em tragic, zipped the plastic,I'm  a *******,
Daddy should of had meplastered, bed sheet ruckus, ****** us,
Now I'm rushing hours like Chris Tucker, *******,
Derivatives my narrative, gangsta, so the check the carriages,
I laid on, many girls hyped up, when they hear the songs,
This brother stay flexing, nesting,my chariots at the Marriott,
Hoes loving it, exquisite,  watch the foes kiss it, gun mystics,
Class touch, like Melle mel, on the cell, ring the liberty bells, Marvelled the marvelles, always excel,
Never see jails, no story tales, take ya on a shipment, that never fails, dressed with the purple sales,
Growing on ya mind like nails, untouched check the dutch,
Not much,you can do, once I come through, ****** as a piru,
Shoot you, now ya see through, my villains will bleed you,
Evil loves to take a stab, mismatch vocab, see me up on the lab, caught cab, caravan of a goetia strand,
Never been a fan, of fake *******, ride out the glitches, riches
Pitches, sugar pie honey buns, yo big yosef signing ya puns,

Suckas know to give up once my mack lifts up
Ya soul blood losing control soon to stroll
Down to the valley of death row
Skulls and bones
So know ya role guns stay turning bodies cold
So know the protocol ****** be dumber than Cole
******* get ***** to mack sales pitch leave em sowed like a stitch soon to be bewitched
Rich as Mitch mon son of a Vatican Assassin my flows blasting
Like falling stars scarred from my mental barbed wires
Fools tumblin' like clothes insids of a dryer vocals growin' higher
Let the sigh out it's just the death angels out
Seekin' to devour lost souls in the darkest hour
Reigning with shower growing in power every hour
Collapsing minds like the event of the Twin Towers
Nine eleven I ascended from hell to heaven
I'm Spawn caped in vibranium laced my cranium
With coke and *** sound the drums
It's just fools exiting the  earth platform
Entering into another dimension and you can tell by the sounds of their humss....(ye dead ****)



Fools claim peace once they see my pistol piece
Set to releash ending your lease folded like a crease
Straight beast on the microphone never roam in the dangerzone alone
I hang where lions be standing on the throne
I'm Simba lookin' for a Nalas chocha my bars roast ya
Pass cajun taking over every station
No more hesitatin' we came with ammunition
Guns is clickin' objects torn from the rippin'
Bodies flyin' like Pippen let the bloodshed then I'm dippin'
Up out of scene focused on green like Al
Love and happiness ain't always bliss haters miss
The point I'm tryna spread positivity
But they be takin' me off my paths  gravity
Thinking they can battle me causin war casualities
Look at me? You cant hang with the witty
Im harder than cold tittites fools talk itty bittty
The be sweeter than Hello Kitty
Ducked taped mouth yellow tape scenes
Now ya hauled by the coroner's limousine
Chasing the cream I chill like mobb boss Paulie
Undercover so you fools will never find me

Aiyo who said ****** from Houston can't write rhymes im here to define
Playback the timeline time to set the design
We cut from the same cloth feelin' like Roth
Trillion dollar child master the art of the wild
**** a smile add another body to the pile
Emcees get gassed up while my mask up
See us pullin' up blastin' from old dodge trucks
No lucks
You sittin' home alone waiting by the phone
For ya girl to come but she too busy gettin' ***** by the ******* in a zone
I trapped the spot light with no spot light
At the height of a plight so dont fight
The feelin' the raps forte suckas going down like mayday mayday
Say say see them words stutter
The immaculate brother smooth as any other
Steppin' to the mic check my philosophy
Raps apart of me says who says we
I'm speakin' trinity to the infinite
And beyond I'm buzzin' with my blood cousins
Fakers say we wasn't rockin' the crowds
But I showed 'em how I keep 'em rowed
Up so suckas steppin' better throw in the towel



Hell yeah we jammin' Beethoven
With a dinner in the oven much lovin'
Goes to the instrumental now ya corticals
Gone bounce to this holding blunts to this
My styles too crisp to diss so step to this
If ya wanna put this gat to ya back becomin' a gonna
A new foreigner after life wonderer
Tell me why we way under the depths of hell
Can't see heaven even if It was in front of me
I live pain free comfortably no enemies
In plain sight o wait theres goes another fight
Thats just my brain discussin' writes
Over my left and rights ignite under the lights
Boxin' blow to blow twelve rounds to go
And its still an unannaoymous score so I stay *******
To the fans who demand more sore
The haters even more cash galore
From ceiling to floor I'm feelin' more
Of myself cant tell me nothing
Im livin' the life of dead man's broken dream
Only techs on my teams plot through schemes
Turn this ***** into black Halloween
See it's the day of the dead coming back to dread
The lost souls dark as ol' rock n roll pro
With the mic skills for show any beats a go
No yellows or red signs just catch the rewind
While the world declines I try to incline
Nothing but positivity ropes so hold the line
But be weary of the burn on the same line
Don't be a victim to slippin' set trippin'
Soon to hear his heartbeat skippin'
From the ****** bullets that slam harder than Scottie Pippen

Lyrical fanatic automatic causing deadly static
Tatted mentals from the verbal pistals Cristal
Sipper word to the drippers presidential
Potential mics ignite like dynamite out of sight
Fools try to fight but can't last against the Iron Mike
Tyson y'all just wasting giving ya blood tasting
Got it more clout than JP Manhattan relaxing
Blaze a spliff tilt the fifth X em out like Professor Griff
Back in charge street Sarge mack to girls like Debarge
Smooth hair don't care extrodinaire sneaky from rear
To the front at ya show throwing Joker's dough
Watch how the people crowded and formed a circle
Welcome to Nutty Block golden guns stay cocked
Double 0 7 still got love to my sistas and brethren
true veteran letterman still breaking mic stands
I see yall still tripping while I'm unda the basket rippin'
Like Pippen skipping over critics dismissing
Tombstones ya kissin' shy ya fans to fams wishin'
They could stop the cold flows that's heavenly michete
Flows Magguette y'all ain't ready Shabba shanks
Giving no thanks to criticism brace the occultism
Broke my mind from the hologram prison Christ risen
Once I chipped the nails out my palms ring the alarms
I come bearing angels demons hog like the **** did Guam
19-44 ways to gut ya airways see my soul craves
Like Atlanta gotta be brave see the Texas bees prey
Stay beaming for days watch for the ultra gamma rays

Check the smooth grooves from easy mo bee
Surely i freak the beats easily colchese
When I realize deadly but Cooley high
Tryna keep my head to the skies wise
Spit it like Kweli blessing disguised
Energized by the burning disc masquerade
Finesse charades you can't guess a play
Players forever sitting on the bench
Run harder than George lynch titles clenched
Mic champion war path of  Titan aint no fighting
Against god sittin' on evens against the odds
Wicked as Todd I'm putting suckas in the hospital
Leave em in critical
Condition mint leaves let my mind get intrigued
Grows like pinocchio nose garden of snow
Let the blow deeper route tunnels opticals
This aint for child play ****** like Lee lay
Better known as Chuckie keeps shanks with me
Laced like Vega raps mega alpha to omega
Darkest creator watch me burn terminators
Im now y'all laters gangstas with suits and gators
Ready to cater ya own death take a deep breath
Regs get ate tryna regulate hate my mind state
Aint on New York im sticking a fork
In the porks let bullets capitalized the torque
Drug ports running like soccer sports
No time for games I came to bring maximum pain



It'll take more than a hearse of a dead verse
To move me im picky as politics be
Racial tension sitting like Benson
Serves the stupid I'm getting wicked
Stick it like a tickets or search warrants
Flee flicking varmints better repent sent
Engaged war Everytime I spit a cold bar
Sizzles like Alka-seizer giving pleasures
Stress bleeders end up carnage receivers
Cant shake the darkness melanins dominant
Sittin' flat as a welcome mat tilt the top hat
Five gallons got at least seven stallions
Built to an Amazon laying the snu snu
Do I do snap crews like Chinese bamboo
Oh who would of thought of me diggin' you
Baby but back to shows is where you'll see me
Rockin' the parties like we back in the 90s
I ain't a kid this aint a play so stay away
From the danger-zone even got gun drones
Moving Apache cant lache me Tyson prodigy
Boxing against my wit arouse the ***** *****
I'm too legit to quit im flippin' the brisk
Bruce Lee's student strikes swift and prudent
Bezmenov four stages to break the wired cages
Change the pages
To now and forever deaths and war together
Under any weather or circumstance
Don't chance it the rain couldn't even stain
My skin dipped in sin letthe smoke start forming
Acid reaction flows a mind reaction packin'
Like Jordan to Pippen stackin' points rackin'
Mind of a competitor **** a news Editor
Back like the alien blasting Lazer eye predator