I think of the sweet chants you use to sing,
It makes me think of how our lives should of been,
Our intimate moments, joy and laughter,
Your voice never escape my ears, for each time I hear, there goes the tears.
Sir rap a lot Jixi, I spit that hot bars,
The world is going to love the things I do because I am a star,
I am high flying and profiling and wild in the club,
I throw 20s not dollars, then say f it and throw 100s in the club.
I don’t know what’s right anymore, my credit score or the eviction notice on my door,
I am floored by the decisions I have been making, should I go to work, Or stay in between my sheets, warm baking,
Shall I for another girls meal tab as she laughs in her mind, free meal on him, smh DANG,
I will change today, I want to be better, all I want to do is go to sleep, maybe I will start tomorrow as I end writing this letter. BYE
“Secretly I am smart, but play dumb which is smart. There is no immunity that DUMB things won’t happen to SMART people…so why not give people the DUMB things being SMART.” – Jixi
Ask me in person if I am smart or comment to me I am smart, and hear in person the DUMB answer I give…it’s truly a CLASSIC. 🙂
All the pain that I am trained to take, I want to give it back,
I have been running off these fuels, I want to get off these tracks,
The misery is secretly killing me, It has a great enough impact,
I wish I could, I wish I could, simply just give it all back. (But I Can’t)
‘British Food’ exemplifies Paul Biddle’s witty art photography (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
What is a world without words? Can it be replaced with photos?
If a picture is valued as a thousand words, Shall we live life through them?
We pose, we snap, we create, and our words have meaning in which we share,
We cherish photos as we cherish words, for they showcase life, art, moments as memories.
I never paid attention in class, even told the teacher to kiss my ass,
I guess thats why I never even got an A or passed a class,
But forget all that non sense I just want to be cool,
Lately I been on the corner which aint that, should of stayed my ass in school.
red bikini, blue jeans and a mic in hand (Photo credit: aldask)
Hand me the mic so I can spit a sick verse,
So wild and crazy yet I don’t even need to curse,
With a wicked rhyme scheme that quenches thirst,
Of the thirsty rappers and hip-hop community with blessed ears,
That knows true lyricism and masterful mic skills,
I reach for my pen to bleed ink on these pages,
Of all the pain and struggles I felt keeping from going insane,
It’s a shame my words won’t echo over the ear waves to feed the needy,
But it will surely beat up the block, streets and local open mics,
Who welcome young emcees to stand up and rip the mic,
So as I sit there waiting for my name to be called,
I am breathing heavily thinking on my delivering and growing some balls,
So once I hear my name jumping out the speaker box while crowd looks around,
I shall pour out my heart and be true to who I am as I put it down,
So hand me the mic so I can let loose some bars, a freestyle or a sick cypher,
And make sure my mic is loud because I want the whole world to hear me now.
Stay in tuned, just a short little piece,
Something with melody, or comedic,
Just a teaser, hot or cold, hot sause in the freezer,
My music needs a spokesman, not really an intro, just a teaser.