These bullies at school tried to punk me for my lunch money,
They must of thought I was a fool and simply a slum dummy,
I reached for my tool, they thought the move was quite funny,
But actually the move was pretty smooth watch how they run from me.
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.
Bright colors floating in air, on and off they go but they are still there,
I always wanted to catch one, so my eyes must stay open,
In a bottle would be their destination so I can store and hold them,
To light up my nights, and maybe my day, life as a child, without a care.
Dropping the words of knowledge onto the people, the poet,
Their perception of life through their eyes, we should know it,
So how do we learn of life if the poet is dead?
Just fallen looseleaf pages blown in the wind with ears to hear of words floating.
I am too cool for school, that’s why I never graduated,
I always saw my dreams, not reached them, but still fascinated,
By the hard work I put in, I muscled up and I kick butt,
Too bad it’s only my ass that hurts, so I sit standing up.
In the ocean I dive in and swim,
I want to go far but still near I need fins,
So I can go faster away and even deeper,
Life is bitter-sweet, too high on my meter.
I read books so I am smart, but it’s only has pictures so I am dumb,
You go school so you are smart, but you only go there to sell dope dumb,
I wonder who has some gum because I want something sweet and you,
Me and you are just like, we are not quite as smart, but we surely dumb.
I stand here invisible to the crowd,
I know they are hearing me, but they can’t see me,
I am not their vision of a hip hop poet and lyricist,
I guess I need to rid myself of this clown suit, no jokes.
As I sit I write, I think and I respond,
To world with words, thoughts, and a message,
I hope they will listen and respond,
To me as I sit and I write, seeking an answer.