This goes too quick At times I miss those I swore deserved fists Reminisce of a youthful liquored bliss Dulled pains of poverty We sacrificed innocence dealt with daily anxiety Hoped for future riches Mangled and already chopped sentence Just to make something ours Child with distant eyes smiles As he sips from life, tastes all sour The meek that await power have no concept of time Now at this final hour, I consider the value of rhyme Wasted breath or a testament to the downtrodden
The apple that Adam ate was found rotten At the worst of time I still find my head nodding This boom-bap tapped, subconscious snaps That this pen's jotting, tattered tongue spits It's not a song but a collection of miserable thoughts laced with wit Don't give a sh** if you find me mildly entertaining Look around we got 'nuff minstrels in training My verses pertain to that truth we all feel in gut World's corrupt, so now what?