*THIS IS NO SUBLIMINAL!! TO ALL THOSE WHO CLAIM TO BE REAL AND STICK BY WHAT THEY SAY BUT THEN WRITE SOME SHIT ABOUT SOMEONE WITH NO NAME...I LAUGH...how bout this ill do what u do for a sec and take a line from yall...IF U FEEL GUILTY ABOUT WHAT I SAY OR GET OFFENDED IM TALKING ABOUT YOU *smiles* good day bitches*

GS...the industry full of deadly disease
more harmful than unprotected sex and beyond far blown than HIV

these mutha fuckas is clickin around this bitch tainted with S.I.I.
subliminally infected ink
thats like placing a bitch in the middle of a fuckin creek sayin
aint no way in hell the trick gon sink!!!
those whom claim to be real drop SHIT with no names
WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU SUPPOSE TO BE TALKIN TO?
oops i guess taking shots at those who may not know...its ok

tic tac toe lines over flowing with the songs of mother goose
killin off real poets as they place em in line along side line
hanging from 8 trees 4 by 4 with a barbed wire made noose

you see i..

rather be simple and consistent
instead of rolling with a "sexy dimepiece" name plate
while only having to show my skin just for a fuckin POEM comment

i...

rather talk like me and... not like you

i..

rather shoot off saliva bullets from my mouth
than to be fake and fuckin phony like most of you

i..

rather speak my mind not giving a fuck who i offend

cuss a mutha fucka like me?.... i..

rather drop truth and knowledge than to be charged with W.B.P.I.
(writing bullshit with poetic impersonation)

i..

rather skip pass the stage of roses are fuckin red
with dead violets now black no longer blue

cuss a mutha fucka like me? i..

rather read what causes my mind to wanna fuck the ink of another poet
the shit that leaves me like wow as thoughts creep
as my fingers shake trying to respond before i can even find my pad

i wanna read about struggles and overcoming dreadful obstacles
i wanna read about history, happiness and thoughts that engrave into my brain...
facts and principles

i want my mind to be the screen that showcases your words
i want my voice to be yours as i read aloud in order
for YOUR VOICE TO BE HEARD

however...

i take deep breaths and i... roll my eyes
in order to hold in the disgust that causing them to cry

cuss...gs has come to be polluted with some stank ass funk
niggas and bitches thinkin they droppin hot shit
but my brain waves scream like the mutha fuckas cheated me...

out of some thoughtful shit

the realness is draped with a white sheet
AC aint fuckin with the site no more so mattdog glances at his watch
date of death November 13th 2008
while these pussified mutha fuckas shame page after page with ink...but no art

the real poets whom are left are like the nas's and jayz's
here on gs alone...on respirators
trying

just
.
try
.
ing

to make sure poetry
.
.
.
is able to breathe