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)
