I sit and contemplate,
the fate,
of a baby boy born a day late,
August 7th was the date,
momma said I was a misake,
if that's the case,
I'm a mistake more parents should make
I'm lettin' nostalgia overtake,
while I partake,
in this dictate,
my pen communicates,
with the synapses in my brain
while I mentally fornicate
I'm conceiving,
rhyme schmes,
no extreme,
academe,
uses the method of my rhyme stream,
to cure dope fiends,
I once had dreams,
that this skill would let me rise like cream,
and be held in high esteem,
but the ghetto has too many extremes,
so I went from Blessing God to a blaspheme
A child once shy,
as an adolescent I wanted to die,
suicide,
by crazy Niggaz
whereby,
I waited for a reply,
from the sky,
but the devil was nearby,
so I would observe passerby,
while my pupils dialated in my eyes,
from brown to black would always signify,
the evil intent that I sanctified,
was ready to be satisfied
MY MENTAL VENTILATION,
COGITATING ON THE OSCILLATION,
OF MY SOUL'S MUTATION,
I HAD TO FLIP THE EQUATION,
TO BE A BLACK MAN, WITH A PLAN
IN DIS GENERATION
At 13 I raised my threshold of pain
by subjecting myself to self-inflicted torture,
chillin' in a cold basement
my favorite corner,
I would rap into a recorder,
wondering if I had a mental disorder,
maybe I was crossing insanity's border,
the same sweet child who would smile
and give you his extra quarter,
was soaking up like a sponge,
the I'm just another Nigga absorber,
how could I expunge
the devil's informer,
should I be good or evil
the later or the former,
and then the quill became a transformer,
and I morphed into Brotha D'ee
the souls of black folk reporter
Catch me if you can,
I was reading about Malcolm X,
my dialect
sharpened along with my intellect,
in retrospect,
as I chill and recollect,
1983 was the year I learned the meaning
of self-respect,
hatred is a poison you can reject
or inject,
like a kill shot of her-ron,
yo, listen to the story of Brotha D'ee the Rap Don
Thank God for Hip-Hop,
the can't stop, won't stop,
rockin' to the beat b'cuz I, b'cuz I,
suddenly realized,
I could simultaneously reach for my prize
and defeat pretenders with the blink
of my 3rd eye,
yeah, it was Dee Jayin', breakdancin', EmmCeein',
nonstop,
on the 5-8 and Ell-Dawg summer heat meltin' the blacktop,
even when I heard guns cock,
and on the other end of the cannons was black cops,
Claude Mckay already tought me some black people are born
some we adopt,
some are scorned,
some are just pizzed b'cuz they don't have a pop,
some get popped,
and some get dropped,
some like to flip-flop,
some eat the shyt they concoct,
some men pizz standin' up, some gotta squat,
some smoke good pot,
some dig Biggie or Pac,
and some even let the white man
treat 'em like malaprops
MY MENTAL VENTILATION,
COGITATING ON THE OSCILLATION,
OF MY SOUL'S MUTATION,
I HAD TO FLIP THE EQUATION,
AND BECOME A BLACK MAN, WITH A PLAN,
IN DIS GENERATION
Yo, I would freestyle,
and stockpile,
rhymes never docile,
mobile,
enough to escape a police profile,
chillin' in my mom's domicile,
though I was a juvenille,
my pops blessed me with enough of a miss-ile,
to live an adult lifestyle,
I was never servile,
runnin' for the El train
jumpin' the turnstyle,
sittin' on an empty train reading
about Che' in exile,
I went from God-damned to God's child,
never was ster-rile,
yo I'll be vir-rile,
until I'm senile,
always leave the ladies with a smile
I caught a college dream at seventeen,
dropped it at eighteen,
picked it up again at nineteen,
because I got tired of cleanin' the Burger King latrine,
college became routine,
how many co-eds did I huckle-buck,
I dunno, umpteen,
Christine, Nadine, Bernadine, Claudine,
but I never flipped like Wilson
and screwed a Geraldine, nah mean,
but even then I was keen,
to the insight that an alternative lyfestyle
don't make a person unclean,
it ain't who a person do the do with
it's who you demean,
think you reachin' for a dream,
but you fallin' into a racist ravine,
anyway my gay friends knew I only dug
into black females' apple bottums framed
in Jordache jeans
As I fade this mind spark,
givin' big ups to Cobbs Creek Park,
playin' basketball 'till way after dark,
lightin' up a farc,
to mentally embark,
on a journey into bliss,
chasin' it with Cutty Sark,
hey, iced tea is dark,
when pops get drunk he couldn't tell it apart,
now I know through trial and error
I'm smart, sexy, suave and sharp,
a cold blooded warrior with a gentle heart,
I pay respect to the partiarchs,
much respect to the matriarchs,
don't wanna die now 'cuz real warriors die hard,
but this advice I give
don't disregard,
come at me with weak flow,
I'll leave you bled out
cut by my rhyme shards
MY MENTAL VENTILATION,
COGITATING ON THE OSCILLATION,
OF MY SOUL'S MUTATION,
I HAD TO FLIP THE EQUATION,
AND BECOME A BLACK MAN, WITH A PLAN,
IN DIS GENERATION
Yo, pass de reefer pon de left hand side,
pass the Absolut pon de right hand side,
check the situation,
puff puff give, don't mess up the rotation,
Lemme fade this,
with a raised black fist,
to my MOM, GOD BLESS THE QUEEN,
to my POP, HE WAS A FOOL BUT NOW WE KOOL,
to my blood brothers, E-DAWG AND O-ZONE,
to my princess, JAHNAY, GOD IS INDEED HERE LITTLE ONE..LOVE YOU MADLY
to my nieces and nephews, Y'ALL ARE MY JOY FOR REAL
to CEE'TIS, YOU FAM FOR LIFE 'CUZ YOU WUZ MY WIFE
and to MISHA, THE FUTURE IS CALLIN' YO, BETTA HOLLA. I'M JUST PLAYIN'
UMMM....NO I AIN'T
PEACE, TWO FINGAZ TO MY EXTENDED FAM.
LOVE IS...