Spoken Word Poetry
Laying them down with Anesthesia,
Telling ‘em don’t grab on my freaking T-shirt,
For it’s when you think I am sheep,
That I show you the guy you ain’t ready to meet.
I walk in cool low profile, numbers in check,
A handshake firm, but with a hustler’s flex.
They whisper in corners, trying to measure my worth,
But I’ve been cashing out before they knew I was on their turf.
They want me to blend, they want me to bow,
Smile for the meetings; nod at the clowns.
Dress code strict, but my mind run free,
Tie can’t choke what was born to breathe.
They preach company culture, a scripted facade,
Talking like leaders but moving like frauds.
They chase titles, I chase equity,
They build cubicles, I build legacy.
You think I’m the quiet one, just here to comply?
Nah, I been clocking the patterns, I see through the lies.
You waiting for a paycheck while I’m flipping the stakes,
Climbing the ladder? I’m aiming buy the place.
Dancing with wolves? Man, I lead the pack,
Walk into the room, make silence collapse.
You think that I am prey? That’s your first mistake,
I don’t run with the herd, I make the earth quake.
Shoot, little did they know, I been raised by the wild,
My instincts sharp, my style versatile.
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