Sunday, January 24, 2016

On a mission

If I came from the street,
Then I'd rap over this beat.
No one would tell me—
Tell me to take a seat.
No one would call me—
Call me a Jewish freak.
Now, you're saying if—
If, I was born,
Born just a little southeast.
You'd listen to me—
Hear me rapping like some kind of beast.
You wouldn't laugh at my lyrics, then.
You'd listen to them, at least.
You'd eat that shit up,
Like a kitten—
Fancy feast.

Instead, I'm stuck here blogging.
Writing verses—take a flogging.
Better off if I was jogging,
But, instead I'm out here ballin'.
"You're from Pikesville—
Not from Compton."
Better taking leaps, and falling.
Better listen to my calling.
What is livin'—
If you give in?
Better crazy,
Than a chicken.
Putting posts up—
Got a vision.
No decision—
On a mission.

No, there's really no decision.
Yes, I'm really on a mission.