From Here To Paternity II: Son Of A Cunning Linguist

My Spirit Calls

Hello Grandma; yes it's me; I sit here all alone, your little Willie all grown up; a dad, kids all his own, the things you told me as a child ring loud; I hear it all, on this day it's to you dear lady that my spirit calls.

I'm not quite where I wanna be in my life at this age, when tryna make a living from the written price of page, the Lupus has me going through a diff'rent kinda pain, like tryna find the happy rhythms from a sky that rains.

I know you're proud of me regardless of the status quo, there're little things I picked up that you felt I had to know, that nice guy's dead and buried Grandma; he just had to go, my heart sometimes gets cold as if it beats with blasts of snow.

The times we spent together though too short they've grown with me, I feel I must say sorry that your Willie's smokin' weed, I use it to relax a bit and get my brain to chill, that's no excuse but as you know this living game is real.

I try and walk the narrow path tha...

From Here To Paternity III: A Father's Love

My boy,

A father's love toward his son? So strong it's off the charts, these words are not rehearsed, no practice; comin' off the heart, my hand is there to guide you if you're ever lost in dark, they come for you? They come for me; they're comin' all apart,

which means that in no certain terms I'll ride for you my son, my life for yours an easy choice; I'd die for you my son, I'd never turn you in; no doubt I'll lie for you my son, my love is so emotional; I cry for you my son.

The things I want for you are better than I've ever had, a love so proud and genuine that you will never have, to question if I got your back and be forever sad, not knowing if I do; my son I'll be forever Dad,

until the clocks and watches stop and just can't start no more, until I leave this world I'm here to give my all or more, to show you that no matter what you do it's all a score, and use your mind for something; you don't need a ball to score.

My Bash-Man; yo...

From Here To Paternity II: Son Of A Cunning Linguist

 just two hours have passed since I've fed, burped, and rocked you deep,

the silence is so loud this late at night but who might plan,

this time? Why me to sit right here and tell you who I am;

my name's the same as yours; see those two letters at the end?

My two; S-r. for Senior, you're a Junior at the end,

your two are J and r. son; you can call me Crazy Pops,

or Sir or Dad or Pappy; well the "Pappy" maybe not.

I love to laugh and you my son shall venture in the same,

my only goal's preventing you from entering The Game,

or sitting in a prison doing years like Justin Tuck's,

black jersey number; use your brain for good and nothing but,

or God forbid the grave where nowadays they're haulin' fools;

except for your great-grandmas and your uncles Charles and Poob,

great-granddads Pierce...

From Here To Paternity

Some words to you, my unborn son; I hope you're gettin straight,

Such A Dame

Lemme tell a story bout this n1gga in the past, with larceny inside his heart this n1gga didn't last,
it turned my warm heart cold and I won't say his f*ckin name, cause now I rid myself of cats who'd act like such a dame.

I used to love this n1gga which is why I feel the pain, that thin line sh!t's on point so now my hatred shields the rain,
that cascades from the sky within my soul to kill the flames, I burn because I'm loyal; aint no friend as real as James.

See if I ride with you then I'ma die with you fa sho, I'd never sell my n1ggas out, espec'lly not fa h0es,
but dudes aint built like me no more I sadly figured out, betrayed me like the 80s for Miss Piggy and her snout.

I should've seen it coming but I really didn't care, for anything: her clothes, her voice, the silly b1tch's hair,
by then I had me someone else, an upgrade in the end, who didn't have to nag and whine or go and pay for friends.

See all this f*ckbo...

I Am Trayvon Martin

I am Trayvon Martin in my hoodie as I walk, and grip my juice and candy; it’s all good or so I thought,
‘til one man with a pistol peeped the gorgeous Timberlands, I wore and shot me down; his name is Georgie Zimmerman.

A jury of my so-called peers acquitted him of crime, and called it “self-defense” for why he hit me with the nine,
the nation was appalled and while support is locked and good, it’s still not much to see Barack Obama rock a hood.

Ironic how our people will unite for sudden death, but will not show togetherness in light of something else,
it takes a young man dying for the hood to show their love, but young men in the hood die every day yet no one does,

a Facebook ad campaign for them; it just don’t make much sense, and what the media will do’s completely up to them,
while yes I died in frozen blood; I’m gone and won’t be back, y’all must re-aim y�...

ER-A

Ask and I shall tell you though it might take me all day, the difference ‘tween the negros resonate to ER-A,
as far as white folks go the n1ggAs who we be are straight, it’s n1ggERs though that *** it up for all to eat from plates.

The n1ggERs force The Man to make you eat it from your hand, their ignorance apparent by their ways of speech and stance,
these n1ggERs know it all and swear to God to BE the man, but they can’t talk or stand up straight when time to MEET The Man.

A n1ggA sacrifices ev’ryday to raise his kids, while n1ggERs go on Maury just to claim how it aint his,
excuses are abundant for a n1ggER; they don't know, bout steppin up cause when it's time to do it; they don't show.

The N word is an issue that will stand the test of time, a topic so hot buttoned it demands the best of minds,
but me I'm just a n1ggA til the day my trips are through, a n1ggER or a n1ggA, answer this one; which ar...

P.S.P.

I don't give a f*ck no more; I think that point's been made, the game of life is crazy; please behave or points are shaved,
the kind of flow I got'll keep a woman moist for days, while people wanna be uplifting; n1ggas hoist away.

It's sad how families spend generations on the t1t, of all this country's taxpayers but think they're all the sh!t,
I wish I could afford it; I would get em all a grip, take n1ggas off the corners slingin til they're all legit.

Someone has to do it cause The Government don't share, the ones who need it suffer most; The Government don't care,
I speak it how I feel it see The Government won't scare, me into shuttin the h3ll up; so Government go there.

I'll flip it like a light switch as I talk on how the kids, these days aint bout a gotd@mn thing I mean thas how it is,
or maybe how it seems; perhaps these times are now a dream, we may be soon awoken to the sounds of how we scream,

like lovers in ...

Happy Birthday Grandma

Happy Birthday Grandma; Ms. Victoria McKie, there aren’t words enough to write our storied history,
you passed in ’85 when I was just a crazy child, the love you showed me never wavered plus you stayed with smiles,

for me whenever I got into trouble; it’s profound, at 6 years old remember when I burned the kitchen down?
While everybody whooped me for that fire WE were straight, you held me after ev’ry beating; said it’d be ok.

Eventually it was but didn’t stay that way for long, the diabetes had you sick; I couldn’t stay along,
with you inside the hospital and ma’am it tore me up, to not be at your side while ev’rything was goin nuts.

The pictures of your funeral are sharp inside my mind, at 9 years old I couldn’t comprehend your time to die,
I had so many questions such as why do some deserve, to have their life accosted; didn’t speak a mum’blin...

Hood Sh!t

Violence, murder, misery and people getting robbed, a big @ss celebration when our people get a job,
where folks below the line of poverty have good intent, but somehow wind up sidetracked; all caught up in hoodish sh!t.

The liquor stores and chicken spots are not that hard to find, the ladder of success is smeared with grease; it’s hard to climb,
from out the concrete forest; ev’ryday the jungle’s hot, the young’ns just don’t get it til they’re somewhere slumped from shots,

that strike the head and torso but there’re angles in the game, like getting hit with bullets cause a banger has no aim,
the “wrong place-wrong time” adage aint an issue anymore, cause slugs’ll fly through windows and will get through any door,

or wall and outer surface; understand we’re just not safe, it’s not like you can tell a shot to get from out your face,
I love the hood...