When I was in my teens I beat boxed to
Biz Markie in my room; listening to
Power106 in East LOS the music got me
dancing, I cared less if I made any friends,
so I just let it be; truthfully, many of my
friends became best enemies.
They started hating on my grammar,
unpolitically trying to correct me.
These were my Junior High years when I
started listening to LL Cool J
(Ladies Love Cool James)
I was fresh like 88’ and KRS-One with Z
Cavaricci’s (Ladies Love Cool Serge)
without a fade just a wave in my hair and
colorful spotted dress shirts.
“Boombopbopboombop” I kept the beat
boxing simple as I was creating the rhyme-
sayer I became to be, but I don’t rap, maybe
floetry, yet nowadays its poetry.
AKA SoulCritic-poet, act like you know it or
learn about it; don’t be surprised if you gave
me a beat and I drop thirty-two bars on the
track, because sixteen just isn’t enough!
My ambition was lyrical, and then it became
critical, cynical, and more spiritual.
I remember writing a verse on the cover of my
Pee Chee folder then a hater scribbled over it
and said my rhyme was whack!
He got his ass kicked for nonconstructive
criticism, but the beat down wasn’t related;
Karma came to collect! I made an emphasis to
be the chosen one, proudly stated it, and when I
was high like kite I yelled it, talked shit, and
backed it up.
Today, you’ll find me eyes low, semi red
(Clear Eyes for my red eyes) if you don’t believe
me, take a look at my DL…that’s right I still
blaze like Johnny, listen to Cypress Hill,
contemplating ‘How I Could just Kill a Man.’
Revolution of the SoulCritic-poet is in full affect,
you’re either with me, support me or get out of
my way! Haters silently hate! Plain and simple!