106 degree heat index/ drowning in a sea of mental impotence/ I guess ignorance is bliss/ waiting for the switch/ pecked on the cheek by fates perfect kiss/ my indents are stiff/ at the end of my rope/ rather be respected and broke/ than the butt of a joke/ holding on to hope/ that I find my place in history/ looking to God to cure my misery/ but he hasn’t been a friend of me/ since I left Jesus standing at the mezzanine at 16/ karma stepped in to intervene/ and completely changed the way that I reach/ the way that I bleed/ the way that I teach/ my hatred can be found/ in the pain that I speak/ and the rage that I preach/ space holds the key/ to the praise that I seek/ these are the days that I leave behind/ trapped in time/ giving sight to the blind/ while figuring out my own design/ wondering if I suffer/ from the same affliction/ as my friends who fell to addiction/ marijuana and pills change my position/ clouding my vision/ forcing me to sleep with one eye open/ unable to focus/ on my fractured reality/ waiting on Lobotomy and Toxicology/ to touch other galaxies/proving validation/ for my verbal mastery/ screaming fuck the universe/ for always harassing me/

I reflect on the days spent/ freestyling to myself/ on the park bench/ crafting my words/ to become a marksman/ learning to harness the power/ I was given/ watching pens and pencils stiffen/ turning instrumentals to liquid/ letting the world know/ about my sickness/ putting on a mask/ like Doom and Stanley Ipkiss/ to protect my psyche/ and fragile image/ fronting off like I was living/ deep down I knew/ the heavens were livid/ because I took up residence/ in Hell’s Kitchen/ only the Devils lipstick/ promised to fix/ the frustration I limp with/ with the quickness/ sometimes you gotta live indignant/ to appreciate the feeling of suffication/ pollination, elation, elevation/ emotional scars worn as medals of declaration/ bring on that numb sensation/ hibernation/

My mind is a heavy fist/ dealing with the pressure/ waiting for the levy splits/ fighting and shooting for the glory of men/ wanting to bang Gloria Valez to Big Pimpin’/ instead I was getting love fixes/ from hoodrat chickens to Can I Kick It?/ pitchin’ ducking thse cops guilty image/ my sky had its limit/ a ceiling with a glassy finish/ right where God didn’t stop to listen/ heaven was a gimmick and hell was my existence/ imprinting the game on weight benches/ writing the first line to my wake sentence/ I practically raped penance to be an MC/ then came the dirty deed/ a 100 grand for 16 bars/ like it was Ether time/ and I’m wrong for being the one with a cleaner mind?/

Grant Park 2008, 100 grand on hand/ holdin’ hands as hope springs eternally across the land/ for which it stands/ change was around the corner/ putting to rest the ghosts of Cabrini and the Horners/ project mourners turned political supporters/ finally progress was moving forward/ then came the screams to close the borders/ as a dose of reality turned into a malice scene/ toppling the balance beam/ exposing the face of inter racial hate/ unemployment rates, new millennium depression and recession/ left people disconnected from the freedoms they invented/ increasing the tension for a scape goat element/ who better than a black president?/ setting the precedent for failure in our psyche/ along with oil pipe dreams/ so America, I ask now/ the ball’s in your hands now/ how will you allow this generation to pass down?/

Oh my God, I’m in fight for my life/ struggling to see the light, I lift the last bit of rubble and bricks/ to wake up to a sunless kiss, surrounded by the locust mist/ face severely burned, upper lip blistered/ greeted by mother natures nuclear winter/ accompanied by apocalypse, her twin sister/ feet splintered, Jesus now I know how Christ felt/ when the non believers dealt their hand to sinners/ nailing his soul to wooden fixtures/ which mirrors the reflection of a society, bent on self propriety/ eyeing me a dead weight, not a contribution element/ cursing my melanin cuz I don’t ride the dick of mule or elephant/ words once heaven sent become here say/ like knowledgeable abdominal follicles off the Devils topical/ funny how Armageddon changes your perception/ continue to move through the wreckage/ looking for medics or where enforcement is/ come to remains of an orphanage/ dead children, burning buildings, gone are my feelings/ it’s bad enough I’m dealing with the scenic/ piles of dolls plastic and pissy mattress/ oh shit a survivor, maybe he knows what happen/

from “Rise Of An Empire” (2005)       

Cannibalism exists within my metabolism/ fanatical wisdom is encrypted in a radical system of inscriptions to imprison what I’m livin’/ I bear witness, givin’ you the naked truth/ the government killed wives of Black Panthers like Ray Caruth/ entertainment proves savin’ beseeched me/ each second I become an endangered species/ demons visit me in dream scenes/ indeed there’s an increased need for peace/ released into space, I face my thoughts jarred/ after I sparred with astrological czars/ composing Allah akbars, on Tabernacle shards somewhere between Earth and Mars/ God’s son surrounded by 93 billion wannabe stars/ shrouded in mystery, I consume the moon swallowin’ American History X/ pretense to lobotomy, obviously my logic is lost in basslines and mosh pits/ young minds embezzled, I wrestled with dirty money movin’ for currency/ so I spear mints, listeners don’t hear shit, begin defecation/ becoming the illest thing walkin’ the street/ since the first AIDS patient classified by the World Health Organization/

From “Rules Of Evolution” (2003)

www.chimilmusic.com 

Breath radiation of Saturn/ splatter actors faster than the teachings of the master/ terrorists exist in all forms of attackers/ from the White House to country side pastures, leavin’ Cube’s banter fractured/ what does it matter?, all that matters is the matter that lives in the here after/ bending over pastors for making children a prophets bastard/ pillaged for monetary stature/ becoming wannabe rappers like condoms that have been nutted in/ true art on punishment/ to put it in laymen, my statements are laced with hatred and anguish/ crashin’ New York Jets like demented Joe Namaths/ patience run thinner than diarrhea Steven King novels/ hostile coke sniffers become president/ mouths limber, gambling freedom for nuclear winter/ injure democratic communism as holographic Kennedy’s/ snipers wish they could hit ‘em/ the governments an immune system rejecting the cure for the sickness/ with crooked crucifixes, as the middle class and needy become the sacrificial lamb for American graffiti/

From “Rules Of Evolution” (2003)

www.chimilmusic.com 

Blood and tears, the familiar libation/ Gemini’s twin sky pacin’, bloodlines sacred/ half jazz musician, quarter addict and beautician/ walkin’ with the skewed vision of the people, in case you missed it/ you asked for my past/ well I’m that fragmented piece of glass, screamin’ when oppression shattered my American dream/ it’s not hopeless til the masses take notice and the country bestows it/ imagine me unfocused, a place you don’t want to be/ like a child abductor claiming to be your ex lover, mother fucker/ puncture the skull structure of Usher Raymond/ with angered patrons who like gats and spiked bats/ painted a picture so perverse, Chili named it after the hand of God engraved it/ terrorists laughing in the face immigration/ taking retribution for Iraqi oil spilled faces/ now my thoughts have no factual basis/ cuz my brain is complacent in the playstation generation/ take heed to my social commentary declaration/

From “Rise Of An Empire” (2005)

 www.chimilmusic.com 

All hail the Apache Cyborg/ a lonesome eyesore disguised as Vice Lord to remove the mask of valor/ following the eternal pattern where the lives of the grander reflect self lord and master/ encased in beautiful disaster, revel in the cancer/ answers swept under the wicked in favor of sickness/ categorized with uplifted as God’s worded image/ because they didn’t the difference between the two visions/ a kin to pigeons as survival of the fittest/ soaking in the frigid as a passenger in Hell’s kitchen, cleansing revenge off cold dishes/ I sit as Sid Vicious, sippin’ the blood off an Oculus Fang as documented strange/

From Arcin’s “Scarlet Fever” 12” (2007)

Speak with dominant hammers/ as a kid, surrounded by guns, drugs and recognizable cancers/ so I searched for definable answers within West Side country grammar/ world broken down in multiple fractures/ 16 bars, Sistine art, pristine nots mislead God’s/ which breeds odds, self lord and master/ welcome to life after the bastard word crafter/ bumpin’ ghetto blasters, echoing His Majesty’s Laughter/ basking in alpha matter/ emerging from the womb with 30 tattoos, no stab wounds or clap wounds/ all this gun talk and no Papoose?/ that’s like a black dude growing Hitler’s mustache, packin’ gun racks, screamin’ I love crack/ reality bites mics, when my lightning strikes twice/

from “After Years Of Television” (2009)

www.chimilmusic.com

What’s wrong with that man Daddy?/ I don’t know, keep staring he’s a freak show/ legs sponsored by Calico/ police peek through the peek hole and see tears of Calixto/ huddled over Nico, blood fresh off the needle/ witnessing the last time the rush fuckin’ pleased you/ fold your hands son/ here comes the church and the steeple/ then the people who tried to piece you and your mind as feeble/ holding onto drugs as the reason God won’t keep you/ my soul became see through/ flash my confined mind to the 1-9-9-9/ at that time when/ I took a blind sign to a nines shine/ seconds away from resting my sublime mind on a Pink Floydian wall/ outsiders think Freudian thoughts, appropriate laws/ lay under fears to get me through the wonder years/

from “After Years Of Television” (2009)