This is a letter to my unborn, sorry that you couldn't see the world in human form. Can't plant you seeds but I still adore. Cause it ain't easy when you nigga poor.
Grudges hate and greed hurts me to the core. Grace and mercy is what I'm thankful for. Prayed on my knees til it made me sore. But on my left side there was still a thorn.
The flesh, living in the flesh it will close the doors. And I would never open yours cause my spirit wars. The unborn is just blessings and miracles. Who ever knew that my pain could be lyrical.
Or that a TsBabyMoma could be spiritual. It doesn't matter cause this life is so miserable. It all just seems so freakin pitiful residual. I have nothing to give in the physical.
All I have is my wisdom so mystical. Wit a flow that is cryptic and rhythmical. Not to mention intentions so literal. My dominion was given so where'd it go?
My children unborn guess I spared they soul.