Beware my stream of consciousness

Beware my stream of consciousness

Kill your bloated self-confidence

Like a rope around your throat

Or a .30 aimed at your noggin

This rhyme flow is undisputed

these verses go undefeated

if I call you out in this piece

I hope you know that I mean it

The snakes, liars, and thieves

The dope dealers and fiends

The baby mommas with no job

And three kids to feed

Not God but I’m high enough to see at least

For sure I’m high enough to know

That once I blow

Imma let the world know

That were messed up but

If you don’t believe or don’t agree

Look me in my eyes and call heresy

But how can you if you don’t even know what it means

Like you learned to sell weed before your ABC’s

And that’s really too bad and so sad

But I never cry for a dummy

Addicted to smack before you came out ya momma’s tummy

Since we live in the district of

Dime bags and crack babies

Cuz the CIA in the 80’s

introduced it to the ghetto as a test

man ain’t that crazy

but it’s not our fault

cuz the president’s a puppet

and the government’s soft


like bloods and crips

cuz we’re killin’ our own kind

what kinda life is this? Man…

I truly find it hard to see us becoming anything but these

Snakes liars and thieves

Dope dealers and fiends

But YOU’RE different and aren’t we all

But as I recall you spent you’re childhood

Sitting up in juvenile hall

Yeah, I guess that’s a sore spot for some

But my words are censored for none because

From the start I said beware

Cuz im going through and

Checking humanities morality to make sure its still there but

Is it too late?

Are we too occupied with getting gold chains with no occupation

Living off food stamp and salvation army donations?

Don’t get me wrong cuz im right

About those who fight for our nation

While the real criminals kill from other command stations

Trading blood for oil

Putting soldiers on foreign soil as

Temperments start to boil but so what?

It’s the first of the month and you’re the D-Boy

Why should we assume you’re giving it up cuz

You’re down and get it how you live it right?

Bad grades but it’s cool cuz you’re shoe game’s tight

Even though im sure that’s not what Michael Jordan intended

Since you got shot over those shoes

Its time to stop pretending

You follow rules.

Momma always told me do as a say not as I do

But if you only knew

Monkey see monkey do

Now I’m her situation

with bologna everyday and all my cheese is imitation

At least I’ve got a mind that’s working overtime

But I’ve got my limitations

And some blessings too don’t get me wrong like

My life’s some mainstream song

pointing out mind control illuminati

and all the world's flaws.

I'm just tryna save my generation from getting trapped in their jaws.

understand that these material things don't mean a thing

all that matters is words over matter so

hold mine as a gift to the future to prevent the blood splatters

before the one in front of the gun cuz he lives forever

by the grace of God we'll see no more stormy weather

cuz when it rains it pours...

but you'll be alright.... you got 3 guns and know how to fight

your a big baller

a high roller but

when the time comes to pass and

you're up against God's soldiers, my money's in the other corner.

This poem is about: 
My community


Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741