My prayer:
**Lord, grant me the means to go cross country and bitch slap the first and last hoe
who think their pen is fucking with ours... NEGATIVE**



\\\ Dry ///

/// Raw \\\

Mental penetration into the closed…. And tight….. Ration-AL
Daily diagnosis….. PENIS-IDAS-HEAD ….. Imitating our styles
Cuz… fabulous cliques stayed legit and LOYAL TO THE REASON OF WRITING, as we’ve always been
Raging hunger… focused visions…..taking venomous metaphoric shots to chins

Rewinding & rewriting poetry chapters since 2006
Creating new courses in classrooms such as IN.P.S = Innovative Poetry with a splash of SICK
We never speak… we spit….. never walk we sprint… never lie… always came le-git
And ripped assholes like professional surgeons, vicious yet so accu-rate…………

We’ve been named cannibals for our animalistic ways of devouring simplistic minds
Silenced the lamb and the sheep herder that manipulated the sheople… line by line
We’re like a pack of wolves foaming at the mouth and salivating of hunger
But we refrain from “DIGGING IN” because you motherfuckers are just poetically younger

We run with lit torches in our left hand while palming our crotch with our right
Fascinated with poon lickings and getting high off of “Metaphoric Dutch”es at night
We don’t need to gargle with Bic pens cuz it’s easy for us to spit ink
We’ll chew you up and spit you out and you’ll miss it if you blink

* * * BUT * * *

Instead we conceptualize LIFE in a rare formation made up of tears, pain, ink, and will
Like poetic moguls in the form of Jay, Mary, Nas, and L. Hill
WE FAMED underground poetry on ghetto soul, so in essence Hip Hop never really died…
it simply evolved, but pessimistic groupies got burnt with the contagious pink EYE… BLIND!

Still in all… we love u long tine!!