I write that's what i do, i know me, and
ain't no one out there that can change that for
me; i know I'm a king; yeah my credit might be
shot, but I'm working on it, no help from the dream,
only negativity, but my reality is realer than the
sh*t you view on TV; yeah it's me; the only time
i change is when i grow; sometimes in life
we have to step back to move forward;
I'm going through it, fighting the truth,
without an army of troops, no more
oops, scoop up my sh#t and split cause the
truth will definitely set you free; I'm
the new millennium slave, running for my freedom
without a railroad, striving for survival, missing
the revival to sustain my sanity to escape
the constant blasphemy from what i thought
was for eternity, however sometimes what we
ask for is what we get; i love from a far
you can catch me at the bar with a cigar.
might even catch me smoking in my car; some
may call her hooptie, but Brea gets me
from there to here without missing a gear;
growing stronger as i get older,
bolder, heart burn colder, writing and
placing thoughts inside my mental folder;
enough of the free-write, pen spitting spite,
can't spell right, but flight is in route, I'm
not turning back; two plus the nine, finally
got my mind right; now I'm back to my
pen and pad when i write...