This Route Poem by James Meaney

Flimsy broken lines
Flimsy broken ryhmes you ryhme
Why even waste my time
If I had a Dime
Ya, Metaphors I work with
But your sayings are completley worthless
Im out here on my grind
But you wouldnt see that
since guess who's on the road
From here to there
Same difficulty mode
Who knows, I keep it true
No need to stare or point
I rap to make a point
Not to squabble over why im so hood
And why this is hot or not
Keep your oppressions under the tounge
Dont start backlashing and shout
Until I've left this After party
U go get drunk, pass out on the couch
Wake up Late, while I'm on my Route....

Pop bottles, worthless in a sense
I pop Coca Cola
They only worth a couple of cents
Who knows how long till your broke
And your out on the street corner
You the biggest joke Doing a free stroke
T hrew waves of poverty
Ever lasting pain, what a game
You play with life.
You thinkin right? Naw your not Sain
Naw you say, keep it G
Life aint livin unless It's keepin real
I laugh, as your record deal gives you the boot
Your on the corner has I said
And I'm Still on this Route....