"sellin" poems
Just a wicked peacenik’n quick draw from the Paw
Game of Thrones’n the Shah, cRussian bones of the law
And still spewing the news like the red dragon’s maw
When the baby-skull splitters want nuclear winter
Ideal New Cold steel and send Chernobyl shivers
Down Roman Republicans’ severed headlines
Till there’s no more dead kids on for prophet front lines
I’m in exile sharpenin’ [sic]kles in style
Pyongyang’n Kuomintang climate denials
Erasing their nation-hate racial profiles
Outpacing their skinhead disgraces by miles
Shell casin’ this place like the Nuremberg trials
For Fords sellin’ swastikas stockpile bibles
Defiled by Normandy tide genocidals
Fresh meat off the boat spreadin’ Plague mercantiles
I smile and **** ‘em with kindness
Then grind
Battle tax in my acid bath
Salt Marchin’ prime
Because WAR IS THE CRIME
I’m the Clown Prince of Rhyme,
Level 9 state of mind
Like the state of Rakhine
The Black Hand before time
Runnin’ Africa’s Luciest Sky Diamond mine
I’m the ronin alone in
The monkey god shrine
And my guile’s reprisal’s Versailles treaty signed
Strippin’ pride from the Rhine
‘Till your Motherland’s mine
Swine
Apr 8, 2018
Apr 8, 2018 at 2:37 AM UTC
NY Hip Hop
Gold Express
Bling Shop
Afro Brothers
proprietorship
buyin and sellin
filthy lucre
of down hard
Gat packin
Gangstas
on the down low
throwin down
fallin hook
line and stinker
just a bunch
of lil fishies
wigglin at the end
of golden chains
its all about
the bling baby
all about the bling
"I pity the fool"
saith Mr. T
the potentate of
soul and gold
who ain't
down with
the cool jewels
of righteous
B Teamers
arrested by
the silk rope
of glitzy discos
bribing bouncers
with an
earnest Jackson
to *** rush
the vanity faire
of bumping
A Listers
Or was it
Def Jam
Buddhas
minting
coin on
MTV?
exploiting
misogyny
and ghost
face killas
NWAs
slugging cases
of Kristol
blowing
fat spliff
smoke
up the *** of
Phat Farm
kids in
the hood
shooting
silver
bullets at
the man
takin baths
in tubs
of fifties
lighting up
with crisp
C Notes
rollin
through
life
in black
Escalades
its silver
spinners
twisting fast
round
corners
where
being cool
went blind
and
Coolie High
homies
still tip
a sip
for the
brothers
who ain't
there
Today
its all about
the raised fist
of power to
the P Diddy
fighting
the power
of the people
as leggy
Beyonce
warbles
songs
for the
posse
of a
Libyan
Dictator
whose
blood
money
pays
a cool
mil
cover
for a
New Years
Eve
tune
Its all about
the bling
baby
All about
the bling
baby, all
about the
bling.
NY Hip Hop
Gold Express
Best Prices in
Trenton Since
1997
You Tube Video:
Gil Scott Heron
Ain't No Such Thing As Superman
Trenton
2/25/11
jbm
Mar 20, 2013
Mar 20, 2013 at 9:19 AM UTC
YOU aint no gangsta.
With a pistol grip pump.
******* underaged girls
For money to buy junk.
You’re a player for sure.
Playin with minds of children is easy.
Capitalist pigs like you make me queasy.
You smashin the man?
Youre jackin off to the sounds of the system,
Beatboxin records while the ignorant minds listen.
To illusions of grandeur…
Your caddy rims rollin.
All the while corporations controllin
Your mind.
YOU aint no gangsta
With a pistol grip pump.
youre just a **** Prick-average guy
Walking a racial divide
Elitist **** telling another whitemans lie.
To the masses of laborers.
Buyin what you be sellin
Your notions of success
Aint my version of rebellin.
Apr 11, 2012
Apr 11, 2012 at 3:40 PM UTC
So, our hero of tha day waz DJ Herc
He b driven’ lil Mizz Dazze ‘round, in a pimped out Merc
Queensbridge waz tha birthplace of Hip-Hop
Red alert, it just won’t stop
It will hurt uz a bit
No more than a **** wid a hit
Wee all thank Merc 4 puttin’ on dat show
Smokin’ sum **** n angel dust, wid sum real blow
A bro named, Coke LA Rock, waz also a financier friend of mine
Handin’ out goodies 2 tha children in-line, all tha time
Nickel bag half n ounce, quarter pound pow, now wee poppin’
Az long az tha music izn’t stoppin’ and tha rocks r still droppin’
If champagne waz still a flowin’, then tha freaks wood b steppin’ in line
Hotel, Motel, u don’t tell, wee don’t tell, one-time root 9
There’s notta man dat can’t b thrown, a horse dat can’t b rode
A bull dat can’t b stopped, a disco dat can’t b rocked, can u decode
Were u @ dat famous house party, thee dope
Spinnin’ tha holy crates of hip-hop, wee hope
A1 B-boy from every known neighborhood, wid a scent
From JC, Tony D’, Sweet n Sour, 2 super DJ ‘Fcukin’ Clark Kent
Sellin’ nickel bags of cannabis, 2 miss layD hoes to mi crew
Made mi coin roll into notes, helping outta few dat I knew
Hip-Hop waz made 4 peace, love, unity n fun
Still b countin’ mi riches, retired n still layin’ in tha hot sun
Apr 8, 2020
Apr 8, 2020 at 1:50 AM UTC
She hushes me repeatedly
as if my voice could be– too loud
for these shrunken, elder walls
What voice can I revive to tell her
that this little place...reminds me...?
Ratchet up the memories
the young mistakes
my welfare “townhouse”
as if my voice could be too loud?!
Where does anger go to say
These cheesy rugs remind me!
of the smoky halls, stoop-sittin’
head lice, **** roach
fumigated invasion
Music loud enough to blow pipes
induce trauma through the walls
Thud Crash
“Stupid ****
Knife-weildin’, drug-sellin’, boyfriend-of-a-future
A can of beer later...
with stress on hold
the smells of dinner, now—all fifteen of them!
Assault me through the front window
“Ya there yet?
...to this “cute little apartment, I mean?"
So it’s sold…
Someone else will wash windows, rake the yard
Shovel Massachusetts snow
Christmas lights come down
in my mind—
Running toward them still
Toes numb
Skates bouncin on my back
Sled firing off sparks against the sidewalk in my wake
Running and as always late
Mittens soaked, heavy
Like my eyes—
Mom and I
looking out this window for the last time
Looking out toward the daughter of the woods I was
Behind—me
the bride sinks
to the bare mattress—
“Was it really 57 years?
How can it be?”
since...clutching can opener and Coke
He scooped her up and through that door....
“How can it be? Oh my….”
"You can always keep the memories."
she chirps to check the tears
But I can’t taste them!
…Mom baking cookies
stew and dumplings on the stove
Snitching chocolate bits
waiting for the bowl
Impatient little helpers at her side
Colors slipping…
A child husks corn in sunlight
A blue Huffy gleams behind birthday candles
Sheets billow from the line
Sounds fading...
A choir of music boxes
before the Christmas carnage
Doing dishes in three-part harmony
I can barely wrap my words around our voices!
“You can always keep the memories”
Preamble to the dutiful decision
Hypothermic excuse
to dump the place
Street sign shrinking in the rear-view
Aug 26, 2016
Aug 26, 2016 at 4:06 PM UTC
shakin like a bacon eater
takin down a bird feeder
cedar creatures rollin up a doobie
they be suing me for truancy
I shoo a flea from chewin me
a wrap of lettuce fed us
said us fellas sellin head amounts of coke
we oughtta **** a bowl of hope
my soap and rope fill up my closet
I deposit positively. Stop to mop it
cropping photos,potting soil,oil spotting
wrapping lettuce wraps and leftovers in foil
I'm American and spoiled
Aug 22, 2014
Aug 22, 2014 at 1:05 AM UTC
whats up
comin at cha
from a different perspective……
I
don’t have to be a gangsta
pack heat
rock jordans
300 dolla feat
ice coated nines
blindin muthafukkas
actin all hard
causin a ruckus
I roll wit style
my own I made
not actin like a *****
still getting paid
I
been married 10 years
still eatin that same salad
real love is better
than ******* tryin to act valid
see if fake *** **** is what you sellin
my crew see threw
be handed out honeydew melons
I’m a new kind a rapper –
See I
help ya move
and loan cash
same friends
since way back
roll deep
smoke ****
life cheap
retire neat
buy a yatch
drive a jeep
grow my own
still a freak
I’m a different kind of rapper –
you can call me Sammy T
or MCDJPJS, if a please
i bring it hard
put ya on your knees
have ya starin up, mouth all agape
but when I still don’t touch ya
you be callin ****
try to knock me
down like Cosby
***** I’ll trap ya
sell ya *** to Pauly
feed ya mushroom
set you in a field
play some grateful dead
watch ya spirit yield
Im a different kind of rapper –
Mar 28, 2015
Mar 28, 2015 at 1:09 PM UTC
On wheels
On the road
Off our heads
City bound
Let's go bro
Let the adrenalin flow
In search of narcotics
On Devilment Row
Where the good don't go
Here dealers compete
In a threatening way
And if you're not bold
You better not stay
Young joeys surround you
On the carpark
But you ignore them
And head inside
The deals are better in there
Though the risks are higher
Amidst the heavy hitters
Thirty or forty
To pick and choose from
What ya sellin'?
What ya deals like?
Everyone's suspicious
And everyone's armed
There are people murdered
In this part of town
And nobody blinks an eye
And you know that when
You're that close to death
You feel so very much alive
By Phil Roberts
Dec 11, 2017
Dec 11, 2017 at 11:06 AM UTC
she had a dignified sadness
in her dark eyes
a dignity to her stately walk as she
walked on down to the beggars lot
a vision of class in her step as she was pulled
down onto the worlds darkest places
by the circumstance of betrayal
he drank his coffee from the paper cup
in the motel room
by the main road
the summer night shadows playing out on
the stained walls of the cheap room
someplace not far a TV played far too loud
but you can never determine a word it says
she thought as she lay there
mute with him on top of her
meant not a thing to her
but his closing the door as he walked away
meant everything
seemed so final
seemed so fitting in this ***** dark place
a single tear escaped down
the perfectly carved features of her perfect face
a quiet dignity like a shawl wrapped round
her thin frail shoulder
clinging wet and hopeless
in this dark place
a inconsolable sorrow in her eye
as she looked on without seeing
down the beggars lot
at the darkest places in the world
how did she fall so swift
so far so fast
from all the dreams of girlhood at hand
to this horrible place where they feed on your very soul
in the morning
its ugly light reveals the beggars lot
littered with the used up and cast aside souls
littered with the worlds price for false freedoms
and false saviors
careful of thouse come sellin you pretty words
of dreams of what will be
she goes to the well and with tender care
washes the night from the delicate lace of her dress
and with a single tear
escaping down the perfect features of her perfect face
she remembers him
not for what he truly was but for what
her girlish heart saw him as
he sipped his coffee
from a paper cup
in the royal palace motel
up in denver's dark heart
watched her undress
took her in every sense
and then abandon her in every sense
closing the door softly
as he went
i would save her if i knew how
i would save her if i knew where she was
Oct 1, 2013
Oct 1, 2013 at 10:04 PM UTC
A couple wuz beading up
for a chi chi day
She drunkenly laughed
**** stained her dress
A olive skin woman
in golden glitter pasties
Offered neon *** shots
near 10 in the morning
A chubby girl dressed
in a black fishnet body suit
selling face paintings
while her supple *******
Jiggled in your face
A black man occupied
A most different plain
Sat behind two chess boards
wasn't gettin paid
Two SAP cars parked
At Royal Sonesta curb
idling to taxi exec sappers
back to the friendly skies
****** whippin glitter girl
Shakin her money maker
Lookin hard at her wares
What the hell she sellin?
Across the street
miked up bible thumper
Doin his groove thing
Raged against the ***** show
Ca ching ca ching ca ching
I ducked a bity bee
Flying at my face
I'm walkin Bourbon
Full of mighty grace
Hard Rock Guys
selling cannabis lollis
crowded corners bumpin
Ain't no trollies
boom box blastin
back beat samples
Who Dat Jazz?
muskrat rambles
Three card monte
Obstructive beggers
Kids banging on
5 gallon drums
Gimme a dime mister
Louie Armstrong Park
Congo Square
Where it at?
Gotta get there
***** Glitter still barking
Mardi ****** Gras tees
Snapchat Me Your *****
Ducked another bee
Kid put his two pails
In mid of the rue
Gotta pay the toll
Whatcha gunna do?
Music:
Mardi Gras Music
From NOLA Notes
2/18/17
Feb 27, 2017
Feb 27, 2017 at 1:58 PM UTC
From grey plaster dwellin’s they come to us
fer enough sun t’ melt their lollies but
after sun-burnt migrations, some remain
as they can choose our shacks fer their castles
and their spawn breaks the spines on each weaver
and fer their red-faced fuss ‘e is broken.
The ‘ermit crab too takes ‘is leave broken.
The ‘ome ‘e made now closed to all of us
Not passed by ta’ooed ‘ands o' net weavers.
The painted shells still litter these streets but
suited slugs paint gray on our small castles
till only mockin’ shades of age remain.
“Shave off, bastards’ll pick till none o’ yer remain”
screamed mad John as relaters “fixed ‘im” broken
into some plastic ‘ouse from ‘is castle.
‘ow ‘e used t’ tell those old tales to us
'o the deep places and the things there but
they ‘ad ‘im by the gills, poor old weaver.
Spines down, in nets made by ‘is own weavin.
we did it to ourselves, we can’t remain
Wi’ nets o’ money, o’ ***** o’ smokes, but
black flags still fly, bein’ bent never broken.
Cross-bone attractions will be left as us
‘eld by those who took away our castles
Stormin’ beaches to kick down our castles
the sandy ‘oles and ‘ides of those weavers.
Sellin’ our anger like lug, dear to us
cast from the sea of us that will remain
‘ook lipped, ring-eared, ink-stained and not broken
nothin’ t’ be fixed and no-one changed but
In come those nets, I ‘aint been caught yet but
that gray, that London gray sweeps my castle
away where the concrete can’t be broken
t’ reach lug beneath dried surface weavers
as gulls break beaks t’ peck at the remains.
yes, we’ll eat each-other if they take us.
Take enough of us, and leave shell castles
no ‘ands to ‘old jolly Rodgers and sing
‘appily swear, or dance on tables but
**** that.
Dec 2, 2013
Dec 2, 2013 at 8:10 PM UTC
a fire breaks out in his pants
whenever she walks into the room
but she just laughs
at how quaint he is
she has eyes only for the old man at
the end of the bar
his beat era leather socks are just up her alley
his pocket protector lifestyle is just
the thing for her wedding plans
she could always see herself
with his type of narrow shoe smart fella
he leaves her and her lover
at the dark bar
and wanders the lobster cages
looking to trap the feelings
that made him feel like
unconquerable king john
with his magna carta series pen
but this night is too full of babe sweet
and her pocket protector cowboy
so he goes home
to lay on his bed on imaginary nails
and suffer all the trials that good men should
wants to be worthy for the pay off
wants to be in line for the pearly gates
babe sweet and her man
live up the coast now
they own a bed an breakfast catering to the insane
who write great novels
on the walls in crayon
and spend their nights
hanging out on the roof singing ballads
to babe sweet
and her cowboy who lasso's the moon
its a wonderful life plays on the tv
every night year round
cause thats the dream they are sellin
that if you work hard
someday itll pay off
jerry garcia's picture hangs
in the lobby
he looks out at the changed world
with the shocked expression
of how did all these people miss the point
as they just go on beating eachother up
and crashing the gates
he is in the back room of babe sweets place
hiding from all the gretchens
and trying to redraw the lines of reality
we all got lost out there
gotta reinvent yourself
before the gretchens and the hangers on tear it all down
gotta bend the road before it bends you
just like unconquerable king john
Nov 10, 2013
Nov 10, 2013 at 5:18 AM UTC
I wish that you believed in love, so then maybe you could see the love I have to give. Like a trap star, I got so much I sell the **** But nobody wants it, all having been scorned by the one before. So I'm sellin mine in bulk at a discounted rate- lacking conversation and maybe a second date. Always only half invested, I keep having to get myself tested to see if something's love or lust, and always saying "In God I trust" but trust less in the dollar bills that are leaving people unfulfilled like a bad trip on a half *** stash. Like a ****** out of rehab, you swore off love because her lies tied the belt around your arm as her breath fueled the fire of her kisses that cooked and were injected into you veins, that was the only pain you knew of love. Left strung out on the bathroom floor your hopes and dreams went down the drain along with your hope that you'd get another hit of her. Her love was your drug and it turned into addiction- a daily procedure, she'd tell you lies of pride and leave you alone to seizure. You checked yourself in to the nearest center for rehabilitation and you made gettin clean your obligation..
I'm sitting here wondering if there's any hope for a relapse cause you've seemed to have swept off my feet and I'm standing on my kneecaps. I'm not saying I want you to fall back to the track of what backtracked you, but the feeling that comes when something you're in is the truth. I want to be your natural high. Trippin off life and all the little things. Let me hold your hand so can feel the beat of my heart pulsing through your veins. I don't wanna make you blind, I just want to open your heart so you don't see the end before the **** ever starts. That was my problem too, but I had to live in the moment. I knew that they'd be gone, I just couldn't have shown it. I just want to make you breathless, remove your fear like articles of clothing and shed this...
They say if you want to stay alive, don't get high on your own supply... unless of course you sharin- that's better, then you can get high together. John Legend said we on cloud 9 together. Let my kiss send you to another place while my hair that falls around you is the only way to find your way back. Lay me on my back and rest your head on my chest and exhale your stress. I'll inhale the lies and believe me when I tell you "everything's going to be aright". Everything's going to be alright.
Jul 19, 2011
Jul 19, 2011 at 6:54 PM UTC
Keep talking girl that's what I need right now
Give me that constant conversation
This ain't even about you, this is my ego ************
Everybody smokin' my green, not a second thought
They ain't know I laced it
Get your faces lazy, you love it, you say it's tastey, but you can't taste it
Yeah, nobody's catching me erasing faces
Black or white, it's all the same when we're talking bout races, but nobody's up for chillin'
Everybody calls me a musician but I'm just a villian
Let's be honest, I haven't been killin, but I'm sellin
Got all my stacks on debit
***** I'm the credit, and I take it all
I'm ******* Cinderalla, didn't even have to take her to the ball, she went alone
The only things said was gag
Yeah everything's flipped now, ******* be fetching my bone
Bouncing hoes with my bose
****** nose, ****** nose
Where's Dusty White
Never said what I do is right
But nothings really right or wrong
Got too many ideas, but first where's my light
There's her ***** now it's outta sight
Sorry I get a little distracted
Give me that loop, now where's my follow up
Play hoops like Lebron, in the hood errybody's like Sup?
But I can't stand it, wish I wasn't this way
Probably be better if I just shut up
My pick up lines are stupid, cause I don't use em
I just pick her up, and then we **** and I leave
I'd be ******* surprised if anything I said she believed
But when I was kid my dad was always like do s'em
Don't have to try, but I'm stuck, just want a normal life, but I'm just getting higher
Keep my nose out, see if I can't find another buyer
Jul 19, 2014
Jul 19, 2014 at 4:06 PM UTC
Invalid curtains
Broken down houses
Mold is growing
Everywhere
Not many live here anymore
Used to be a boom town
babies born
Everyone was employed
Took coupons at
the company store
Milled that wood
Ground that red ore
they don't build
washing machines
around here anymore
Invalid curtains
blowing in a toxic wind
nuclear plant failed
but that wasn't
the end.
The wind is still blowing
down main street
twitching the
"For Lease" signs
If the mud doesn't getcha
The *** holes will,
Schools?
Salting the roads?
There isn't any more revenue
At least Rays is open
the general store
Thomas's, the hardware store
next door
Tony's One Stop Coffee Shop
Barney's Pharmacy
Sellin' out those Oxys
The gas station pulled out their tanks
The doctor's gone
The dentist closed
Got to go forty miles to go to Costco
Still catching trout
at Jackson Meadow
down the highway
Pulled out an 8 pound bass
Never knew it was there
Put it back
Old guy one more life to live.
Staying here is all we know
No one knows we're here
Just like that 8 pound bass
One more life to go?
even though
We keep hearing singing
in the sundown snow,
the dying song
of a dying town.
May 24, 2018
May 24, 2018 at 9:12 PM UTC
When I got that call
I knew it was foul
I heard the name Jon
And I knew he was gone
Like a game of chess
He died a pawn
Never had time
To grow and spawn
The next couple days
Were filled with greys
I was feelin very blue
Not a clue what to do
Tryin to find out what I’m doin
I ended up missin the viewin
Missed my last chance to see
Where he would forever be
Man I feel bad
For Shamawd and Nancy
Sounds like a story
Straight from Tom Clancy
On April seven
He was sent to heaven
Or at least we hope
Cause he was sellin that dope
I wonder if I’ll ever
Be able to cope
We use to always play ball
And chill at the mall
I rue the day
When I got that call
People always say
Live and Die by the burner
But I’m the one
Whose brother got murdered
Your life was took
And now mines shook
Some people think
That you were a crook
But they didn’t know
That person inside
The one hiddin in you
Behind all that pride
You were on a mission
But you would never listen
And now were all sorry
Dealing with this quarry
Feeling like we
Should all go on Maury
Povich is a *****
You used to always say
But on April seven
At about eleven
You were shot and stripped
Dropped in a ditch
Now that I think
Was you a Crip?
Naw you was smarter then that
You always tried to earn it
But then again
You had your Unit
But that’s all in the past
The good memories will last
And dog you did
Go out wit a blast
Just like you said
But now you dead
2 in the shoulder
2 in the head
All cause of what
Some counterfeit bread?
Only a few people know
What really went on
The problem is
One of em’s gone
In my eyes
You were never a pawn
You were always the king
You had all the bling
And if you used your head
You’d have everything
The reality is
That it’s too late
Its unfortunate dog
Checkmate
Jul 12, 2010
Jul 12, 2010 at 5:00 AM UTC
Refrain:
He your pappy, but he dead now
Won't mess with yer head no more
No more.
Cos he dead now, he dead now
He dead now.
1.
Looking in this window. See 'em all warm inside.
Cold wind, him bitin' at my ankles.
Just look at 'em inside, all warm and cosy.
CHORUS:
Maybe gotta look inside
Won't get nothing on the outside
Yeah, gotta look inside
For a little bit o' lurve!
Never gonna turn your back on life.
Gotta take this shot of live
Gotta warm me up inside
'Fore the cold comes to claim me.
Gotta close all lonely spaces
With a little bit of love
So, I's gotta take a look inside.
2.
Don't mean to feel so mean. Just wanna feel part of something
(So) strange, with all 'em polar caps a-meltin',
We still don't have enough love!
3.
Looky here, now traipsin' down this ***** street
Seeking all along the edge of night
Huntin' warmth, hikin' smiles, hawkin' love and sellin' souls
What the hell are we doin' here?
4.
No, you don't always feel it
But there's a stink wind blowing out there
Suckin' at my poor soul, stealin' all my warmth
Yeah, (s)uckin' up my poor soul, takin' all our love!
Repeat refrain.
S T, 23 April 2013
Apr 23, 2013
Apr 23, 2013 at 5:38 AM UTC
I got new friends
Who told them?
Go use him
He works hard for you ends, To meet,
his life ain't compleate
They think sellin dime bags
Beats your poundin feet, or ****** hands, or avoiding uncle sams deadly reach
Only my real friends can see, even though sometimes they can't be, and I can't be, like we used to be, family, I havnt seen them since I last cut my christmas tree, but sometimes they call and that's when I see new friends may act right
But real friends, They Will Be
Dec 17, 2014
Dec 17, 2014 at 4:26 PM UTC
Burnin blunts ash em in my soul
A few blunts in em and im cool
Scrape the resin till im smokin glass
Shut up an pass the ****** grass
Outsider sittin in the back of the class
Dark figure sittin in the back of the mass
I'm Sellin addiction, addicts seek my benediction
Movin the product, the holy ghost sellin salvation
So addictin pullin in the dead with my gravitation
Sell you your addiction for mine that ****** benjamin
Come to me for paradise
Feelin pain here's the ice
All I see is dead presidents
Eyes dead to the residents
Dyin for my decadence
**** a ************ with a needle
To buy a ****** gold fiddle
Jhonny may play his fiddle hot
But for the hotshot his fiddle I got
Ridin in the Mercedes benz
After I move a couple benz
Rottin the whole ****** hood
Makin my bankroll look good
Jhonny boy givin me all his bread
Then come famine and he feelin dead
Jhonny boy robbin for scraps of bread
Jhonny boys mums bread used to get baked
This boy takin till his whole fam gets raked
Money funneled to me by the addicts
Jhonny is enforcin my pyramid schemes
I'm Sellin addiction, addicts seek my benediction
Movin the product, the holy ghost sellin salvation
So addictin pullin in the dead with my gravitation
Sell you your addiction for mine that ****** benjamin
I'll be drivin around at the seams
Collectin the green for my dreams
A real ****** nightmare on my street
Krueger with your dope sheet
Salesman with the ****** rapsheet
Killin users and abusers while I sleep
Makin a killin in back alleys I creep
Get customers lost in the nightmare
Then sell the lost a rotten cure
Maybe give em a little gear
Maybe im a travel planner
Sellin trips to wherever
Nah im just another killer
Sellin trips to the executioner
When the lord doesn't hear your prayers
To take away the pain I'll bring the wares
A couple pain pills and a few uppers
Just bring me the bills and the paper
I'm Sellin addiction, addicts seek my benediction
Movin the product, the holy ghost sellin salvation
So addictin pullin in the dead with my gravitation
Sell you your addiction for mine that ****** benjamin
Slinging drugs got somethin inside me broke
Cause i'd rather be out killen than be broke
Bring me the bricks and i'll move that coke
To all the froggys in the pond till they croak
All this movin got my numbers inflated
Got my ****** neighborhood inundated
Careful you dont get ****** ventilated
For a quick buck to take to the pusher
Bodies pile around me a deadly peddler
But ive never pulled the trigger
The passive killer, waterwell poisoner
Jan 7, 2019
Jan 7, 2019 at 10:06 AM UTC
I mean it !
It was really somthin!
Joey ha ha!
Well there was this babe see
And Joey he oh brother!
...
...
I can hardly ----
I mean it !
It was sumpthin !
I tell ya!
Something to write Home about
It's hard to put it down
But it was really sumpthin !
----------
---------
All the hatred in the world never done did nothin good
(Nor bad or even substantial)
.-------
-------
.
A little child trusting you and now what?
Ya gonna go and **** someone and become a millionaire?
Ha ** The friggin world!
Watching the same **** every day!!
-------
-------
Little kid on the razor street with the jazzed up monkey
Dancin on his back
Sellin souls real cheap and there you are
In the police force
With your drone airplane
-------
------
For some reason errybody jaberrin bout bombs n ****
All **** week!
Why dat?
.
.
.
Little kid out on a street
The silent street
The street that ain't there
Except when the kid dead and then it's there
For a little while til another kid dead some where's else
Then a bomb goes off an yer gone
------
------
See-- we got dis prez born in Kenya
------
------
In America we takes all the sicko bejabberers
And puts em all in one building and calls
Em Senators
An then we surround the building an laugh at the sickos
and throw em bananas
Meanwhiles they be killin us
And then for sure there's them banker dudes
SHUT UP!
We Aints ta say no more bout it!
They off limits ya know!
------
------
Now how'd I start this thing so I kin wind it down
And get outta here with my head on straight an my body in one piece
And you not hatin me and bombs goin off
And all of that what you do to me
an little kids
Out on dyin roads and where they lead
To garbage dumps and the third world
And conspiracy and hypocrisy
And all that stuff we gets talkin about ?
...
Oh yeah
.
I was talkin about me bud Joey ha ha!
And this babe
See
An it was sumpthin I'm tellin ya!
Apr 20, 2013
Apr 20, 2013 at 5:11 AM UTC
yo since i had no choice but to rep **** life
drugs n alcohol became my wife
though im stressed
through the curses of ham
its the summer of sam and still i slam
my adversaries get the gasoline soak em along with kerosene
light em up and watch em go in flames ******* know my name
since i escape the reign
no longer got dibs on me
im livin' carefree
but still feel consolidated to satans invisible penitentiary
so.many brothers like me
wanna speak free
but all they see is the cemetery
**** it i shot the sheriff and the deputy
feelin' that ***** Marley talkin' to me
Through **** and hennessey
aint no more fear
mama still lookin' for me but i aint here
my heart left long ago I feel no sorrow
and if i die dont cry for me tomorrow
just know
i stayed true to the game
i dont care about how long my reign will last? im.a blast from.the past
born in the wrong century
yo i know ya feeeeel me
and all my real ******
doing yo thang
how about we load up slugs in the popo brains im.insane
product of Jesus that ***** died at thirty three
now how many niggus died before thirty three
defamin' our savior name
he was black as can be
skin made a bronze eyes of blazin' fire
look how they treated our messiah
they didnt give ****
fools sellin' out for paper bucks
only for the devil to exchange ya soul quid pro quo all i know
is imma be real.with mine and if they cross that line
ill.put em.on the flat line and if i die in the line
of fire ill be reincarnated as a ak 47 round pound for pound
puttin' these snitches n ******* in the ground
Who wanna scrap?
bunch of city politicians talkin' crap
and just know if they watchin' me they watchin' you???
and if they come for me just know they coming for you
Since im a lost son of a prophet
hard to knock it if it wasnt true the media wouldnt use us for profits
house nigguhs givin' up ***
with no hesitation
**** that ill **** the ***** of the plantation
divide n conquer is oldest trick in the book
know who's the fuckin' crook?
watch out for these jealous *** bustas
cuase when it comes to snaps
theyll make hell for a hustlaaaaa
Aug 23, 2015
Aug 23, 2015 at 1:57 AM UTC
Ha im a sicko
a ******
a troubled youth
grown to a ***** mouth
Been sellin dope out the days inn
yeap she look at me
This ***** going in
Have her hollar out
eat that *****
she know im good
cuz im mexican
ill eat the taco
treat that ***** like a buffet
and here I go again
she pop that *** back
and I make it soakin wet
Feb 8, 2013
Feb 8, 2013 at 11:02 AM UTC
Morning to me is watching the boy eat
while I impatiently tap my book
with a pencil.
Singing,
"Excess ain't rebellion
Your drinkin' what they're sellin'..."
while he painstakingly tries
to play air guitar and grab strawberries
at the same time.
My favorite time of day
is when it's too early to lie to myself
in small ways,
or even in positive ways.
Makes the dew damper felt,
though the coffee more disgusting,
sunlight brighter,
though shadows darker,
secrets less loud,
though truth remains quiet and tired
Jun 27, 2015
Jun 27, 2015 at 12:13 PM UTC
Cats strayin’ high on Canal Street
Gangsta Grillz feelin’ tha beat
Open air market on Sunday night
African Bootleggin’ sellin’ alright
Sweet dreamz were set on fire
Life’s on tha line, if dats wat ya desire
Coming back to life, from deep down inside
Jesus hung with me, he waz on mi side
Let’s all do tha Whoolywood Shuffle
Don’t get in tha way or you be in trouble
Humpty Dumpty is back together again
Delivery is nuts, no buts, Amen
Drop tha bass, like a hot sorta guy
While white lab boys, be makin’ ya buy
99 cents, where’s tha beef in mi vege burger wrapper
Rubber-banding out so loud, **** dat mad hatter
Mi baby mama could neva just sit
Let tha hood hear just a wee lil bit
Crack it on up, in tha main trap house
Blue magic for real, like Mickey tha Mouse
East coast flow, wid a Southern kinda drawl
Come in or move on, just don’t crawl
Queens n Bronx, echoed down on Canal Street
Dum Dum Dum it was such a bubblin’ beat
Apr 6, 2020
Apr 6, 2020 at 10:35 PM UTC