but my Soul of who i am
bee on twenty four seven
three sixty five
let em contemplate on they heaven or hell outside entities or inside
they lungs of air compression expanding and collapsing
across they flatlines they was written
slept in they depth
as we crept about ours without no blame
straight focused like an invincible arrow on target
cause they ain't none of your business
so why you tripping off voices and images who obsolete anyway?
they dead remember?
yeah at least for the majority
so what you gonna do for your family sense you got all to gain and nothing to lose?
okay then what about them babies you help make?
oh you focused now ain't cha? struck sumting in dat heart that got you peaking instead of peeping out dumb situations on weekends knowing it ain't no such thang as a weekend
you must be programmed as a receiptant to they channels dat got your sense suspended into the tweaking
you twipping with no indigenous heart rate beating
this is westside my never ignorant getting goals accomplished
make your customers give they paper currency up....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem