I spill these verbs in vibrant color ink on notebook pages any given way..
I live in a physical and mental state where it rains everyday
So i scribe 2 hide the pain of my skies being airbrushed gun shot gray

I am a lonely ghetto prism, incapable of attracting the spectrum of the sun.
Only visions of rainbows i see is when teardrops mix with words causing the ink 2 run.
My pen's tip leaks 4 single mothers who's outcome on life is considered as bleak
5 mouths 2 feed on one income is enough 2 make me pawn pussy 2 strangers in the street.

I would let my body be abused before I allow my kids 2 walk one step in my shoes.
I'm in this shit win or lose, like that lady that sings the blues
I croon 2 an orange moon hoping the sun will arise and cast upon my life a tangerine hue.

I'm a "Wino Writer" ...
Rambling drunk thoughts with electricity cut off scribing by the fire of my lighter.
Scribbling Hennesy prophecies and Remy Red revelations...
I injest metaphoric margaritas and take shots of verbal vodka straight no chasin...

My urban quill drips inebriated hieroglyphics two times above the lyrical limit
I write 4 the hood and all the muthafuckas strivin' 2 survive in it.
My pen rapes white lines 4 convicted felons who can't vote in the presidential election.
If they could Obama would win by a landslide...I'll just call that "Republican Protection"
Muthafuckas doin' 5 to 10...get parolled and cant land a 9 to 5.
I pen for every blood vessel popped in frustration in the corners of incarcerated eyes.

My pencil point breaks 4 crack babies born addicted 2 the taste of destruction.
Refusing milk from a mothers breast...yearning 4 substances cooked on the tops of ovens

I am the soundtrack of life 4 a homeless man who had everything but fell short on his luck...
Every word I spit is reminiscent of the coins collected 4 beer in the bottom of his Styrofoam cup.
Meaning I might not make 2 much (cents) at first but in the end Ur gonna see the big picture.
I don't spend much time in the pulpit but I preach the gospel of forgotten ghetto scriptures...

The rains that Noah overcame aint got shit on my life's hurricane...
Almost drowned in my sorrows until the day I became lyrically ordained...
Living proof that something beautiful can emerge from beneath the soil planted in the projects...
So now I simply scribe 2 survive life and hope 2 touch a few lives in the process...


***SPECIAL SHOUT 2 DA FORT 4 THE INSPIRATION*** ;)