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As time flew and flew And his home was consumed by mankind's greed He had no choice but to become them His appetite altering  His work feeding him  
As time flew and flew And his home was consumed by mankind's greed He had no choice but to become them His appetite altering  His work feeding him  
Legend is his species Yet he sleeps for not being slayed Deep below, below earthen dirt Treaded on years after days Sound a-sleeping and sound silent, But vibrations have been felt
The most beautiful blue sky comes after a day of rain, The most beautiful art comes from a place of pain, Some of the wisest people we claim to be insane, These worldly people are evil, ice reigns in their veins,
Everyday that I awake I thank the creator for the day then I brush my teeth with toothpaste and wash my face. As I pray for my sake Lord my soul is yours to keep, guide me through this day and keep me safe like a sheep
Industrial decay Left the workers in dismay. Jobs lost, life costs. The buildings are in ruin Yet the teenagers pursue in The creative inspiration This nation chases them away from.
Every time I touch the mirror see myself in every morning a tear slips way out the corner of my eyes. It's not the same as it used to be.
•3 am on a wednesday. In front of her a bottle of Hennessy , a blunt , paper and pen. Her thoughts in her lost little head of her are expressed on that paper.
Do you think that People who go to prison For Fifty and sixty years Are they wishing they had Freedom While they're holding on to tears
I remember coming of age in a pivotal time, when young black boys was trying to make a penny off their rhymes. Young poets was tryna get paid, Beyonce had girls sipping lemonade. Days passed, days came, God got it pouring purple rain.
The trees--they quiver with life.Yes, all around me,They shake with strife.Their bones, bare of bark,They're stark white cast in dark.Sister stars shoot to earth,Little pricks of light plunging-
I heard that all the animals are going back to Africa. That my family is going back to the south we're going back to Georgia and that white people are now getting looked down on for saying the N word.
Urban schools, recieve no help Play with the cards that we are dealt
If you are Caucasian, Asian, or of Middle Eastern persuasion everyone wants to be black for the occasion You wear saggy jeans and you come off like this Do you really know what its like to be black and dissed
I go to sleep waiting to dream To get away from life everything seen Fighting each other they love what they see That's what they want beg and bleed for some feed Oh well I'll just start slanging some weed
I spoted a New York liscense plate hanging from your chest as you parade the streets, from one boro to next. The best artists around can't wait till' you come to town
Streets riotous with enervate feet Shrouded faces scurrying pass.
It is dark and dreary. The sun never comes out. I feel so wet and sticky. Why won't this mud come out? I know not what it is like, to even know how to ride a bike. I'm stuck in this house,
Feeding off dump sitesGovernment preaching about human rightsThe minds hunger now difficult to fightThe authority’s pledge I’ve learnt to reciteInsanity, poverty for eternity
CLIPGUNLOCKBANGGuns speak and talk slang, and you aint got to be able to aim to speak they’re language. Most who use 'em can't spell and over there is where they hangman.
Their Eyes are on the Door (The Gay Scene)   Their eyes were on the door of clubs like Casablanca, where they wait to judge. They clutter together like leaves stuck in a drain, old ways refusing to budge.
to cease to desist to stop the crimes to help the fighting youth to unveil the bride Truth and stop her point from becoming moot   that is our calling  
Harsh and cold Is the shattered concrete Click clicking beneath the feet Of jostled ignorance   Heavily breathing Pant panting anxiety Beneath these metal ghosts  
The air smothered in smog The birds don't sing like they used to. Then again, it's not surprising, must have the Memphis blues.  The echoing screams in the streets Children crying in the background
Saluzcion's Never been the type to write my name on a ballot and cast a vote Placing my goals and aspirations on the next man's hope; nope Wasting time slow; going through procrastination,
I rather be thought a fool then open my mouth and remove all doubt; speaking on things I know nothing about or live through But the sad truth is so vague Like body ash in a cigarette ash tray, pause,
As I sit back and reclined Enjoying a cubano and glass of wine I cant help but think of the modern times; where ladies are hard to find, and all I see is dames and dymes
I'm either gonna rise above poverty or define my existence A poetic vision, encrypted with a hustler's ambition, listen dying for what a icon stands for ain't the mission
Isolation and depression Go hand-in-hand When you’re too far away from where you should stand.
I was concieved as nothing less than a miracleFrom 3-7 was too damn hysterical8-12 i was growing up, afriad to be minimalSo by 13 I became an infamous criminalFrom 14-16, i paid my does, so i thought; super imbecil 
A few years ago, I had to make a decision Remain in the hood and risk going to prison Continue to allow the evil to cloud my vision Or pick up a pen and become a musician Ever lyric, every bar, became my ammunition
It's not that I wanna screw it up, I just so happen to be good at itIt's not as if I don't wanna quit, but unfortunately for me I'm like my father another addict.
Peeling scales in rosetta geometry down the rail Slick tile bearings, cigarette stained Haughty men (women too) locked in iron stride Shoulder brash against shoulder Stench one way, perfume another
Comfortable anonymitypeople walk, facelesshappy to disappearin a world of pounding bass
There's a hen outside my window, No, seriously: A hen. Four in fact, 'cause I'm a farmer In the suburbs. Sound strange? You bet, I'm told I'm strange every day. That's cool. I'm used to it, but
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