Within my selfish ambitions,
My inquisitions leave me stuck…
Dwelling on a past that has cocked the legs of my present
And fucked my future up,
So may God bless the child with misery & mental scars;
Scorned memories of suicidal realities,
And homicidal fantasies of a life behind bars…
I shed tears behind closed doors,
‘Cause only God knows my love…
And embedded pain I embrace in vain…
And when push comes to shove,
My peers refuse to cope with the tears I’ve shed with shame…
It is I, the “prodigal child…”
Blamed for the cries of the wild;
Bearing the pains of the black & mild…
My heart is the community of consistent trials… and tribulations
My patience is breaking within the tension of these racial states…
And my state of mind is a military pistol with the trigger cocked,
But I keep forgetting to put the muthafucker on safety…
POP! POP! POP!
But it aint the weasel,
Yet the scandals of deceitful people…
See through the eyes of mortal minds…
And witness the poetry that lies in cries…
May my demise bring forth a unity
That never existed when I was alive…
But while breath is still in my lungs
I’m striving for the stars & the sun,
Cause ghetto seeds born black can still grow,
But try explaining this shit to the young…
I journey through the minds of dumb-founded niggas,
And found that dumb niggas find bliss within their ignorance…
DUMB NIGGAS…
Like Ghost Face Killah,
These some “Run” niggas…
Cutting-crack; money stacks;
Triple-beam; dope fiend – clientele niggas…
Try and tell these niggas about the American dream,
And listen to these niggas scream that looking at the sun don’t pay…
See, your way may be the easy way,
But my way doesn’t consist of 30 inch glass separating my face from Mom’s tears…
Now facing twenty years in the Pen,
Sending pictures of folded arms and bended knees…
Some Cooley High type shit…
When deep inside you on some dry yo’ eye type shit…
Don’t drop the soap – bend over,
But why not, when all your life you were on some fuck yo’ self type shit…
Didn’t you know that God not only helps those in need,
But those who helps them self?
But shit…
I can’t talk, cause I walked the walk that stepped on toes in the process…
A “selfish ambition nigga”
Could care less about the premature dreams of fellow teens,
Shit, I kept it stepping…
Robbing everything from mansions to cradles…
Imagine an adolescent bald up in the corners of seclusion,
Hiding up under the table…
Praying for resolutions to rid the beatings & child abuse…
Delusional child –
In his wildest mind he’s confined to the idea, he was only meant to be an illusion…
Confused & cold; soul shivering,
But reminiscing brings no justice…
I guess that’s why you’re moving herds of weight;
Flipping birds to bait, waiting for the bite to feed your seed at night…
But wait…
Reality has no fairy ending, yet within your sinning you repent not…
And I can’t condone nor condemn them,
So you can just find me traveling this road of my selfish ambitions
Tha Prodigal One...