[[I'll give you guys a piece of my mixtape, that I'm still trying to record, Shock Therapy 117]]
Now my mind is fog up
Kind of... up
Trying to set my life straight
Since i screwed my life up
so i just type up
i cant light up
if they found out
i'd get my lights bust
So i look for the greater good
who should be the one
to steer away from satan cush [kush]
they say i have devil eyes
they say in your heart is where that evil lies
We all have that evil smile
But does that mean my happiness is a demon's cry?
I've been looking for answers it ain't in the skies
I've been praying
but they don't reply
My mom told me they say it disguised
3 months later
I have blood in my eyes
People say things could be a miracle
The works of a clerical
Magically
Spiritual
In this case they haven't looked for this case
Looked for this face
i've been misused in this place
I hate when they say born again
You die for your beliefs
But not born for them
I refuse churchs help I just need him
I don't hate them
i just don't care for hymns
I've been to confessions
Sown my woes
God forgive me
I put the cross over my soul
I crossed over before
And i lost my foes
I need this light so I can escape this hole
People like to keep the bible next to their bed
Keep the demons away
Is what my mother said
But according to my lifestyle that I have led
I rather put the bible right next to my head
Consumed in a environment
Bred for the streets
I can't just walk up the Gates I have to wipe my feet
disrespect my family
No one to go to
Wish I could fly away
And uplift my soul too
I'm trying to imagine
If that dagger didn't carve him
Would it carve me as harmful?
Been to that yard draped in black
Salute that mother....
He died for that flag
It don't matter if it was red or blue
It matters if my Jesus piece protects my crew
But thats behind me
I'm just trying to change
My face tilts down so I can walk in this reign [rain]
They keep telling about community service
I don't that bull...
No bread and circus
Feb 27, 2009
Feb 24, 2009
Push by D.J [[Miguel]]
My mother never told me that I can be whatever I wanted to be.
Because she knew the statistics already held a position for me.
It started out with 12 of us.
Me and my crew, all the cool kids knew,
Cuz we were the loudest motherfuckers in the whole highschool.
We had a plan for the future, had it layed out too.
Thought we were ahead of the game, but we just spoke too soon.
+Stats say; 1 out of 6 of your friends
Gon’ cut class till one day you never see them again+
So, it was 10 of us.
Chillen, barely passin’ class.
Sittin’ in the back and cuttin’ everybody ass.
Always talkin’, but stood shut when a question was asked.
Until we found out we ain’t have enough credits to pass.
+Stats say; 10% of us think way too late,
And when the time comes, we won’t even graduate+
So, it was 9 of us.
Tassles to the left, I take a look at my mom.
She cryin’, I’m glad I don’t gotta deal with this shit at prom.
All fun, we got it in to our favorite songs.
We headed home, free crib, boutta get it on.
We planned it out, I’m finally gonna get her alone.
But the car crashed cuz he had too many shots of Patron.
+Stats say; 32% of traffic deaths are a result of drunk driving.
Leaving a slim chance of all you night clubbers of surviving+
So, it was 6 of us.
Way different from how we were in the start.
4 years later, already hit the halfway mark.
6 down, 6 to go. We holdin’ on for dear life.
Try to do the right thing and never think about it twice.
Don’t look back, no regrets. Stay on course through the night.
But sometimes you feel so left, that even death looks right.----Common----
You see, life’s just a game that you can’t control.
And when you’re stuck, people like to use cheat codes.
But they come with reprocusions. Truth be told.
It’s like Grand Theft Auto without free roam.
+Stats say; 59% of us are in jail.
That’s why we’re the minorities.
So someone better shift the direction of this fuckin’ story, please.
And if it ain’t you or you, then I’ma tell you what’s it gonna be.
It will be the spit comin’ out my mouth, landin’ right in front of me.
Let it settle and feed the roots of your soul.
Cuz these kids should be taught more than the best way to roll.
And fuck Jim Jones and every 167 seconds of his youtube video.
Which they felt was more appropriate than a damn porno.
But listen, I’d rather see a little boy admiring the anatomy of a woman.
Then seeing him learn about drugs and how to push it.
I guess these hustlas forgot the whole purpose of hustlin.
It was the only option left when you were in the dirt, strugglin’.
Meant to get back up on your feet, then be on your way.
Yet I see these same niggaz on the corner every gad damn day.
And it pisses me off, that these dudes are considered pushers.
And they don’t push shit.
They settled.
They’re tryna build mountains with pebbles.
And while they’re pacing back and forth 100 times,
I’m focused on pushin’ mine.
My boulders that stand together, yea the journey’s long.
But in the end it’s all worth it, because they stand strong.
And when those “Pushers” think that they’re finally on top of their mountain,
It all comes crumbling down, and they find themselves startin’
From scratch and by then,
Everyone used up the boulders and they’re stuck with pebbles again.
But I can’t front.
You’ll find a few pebbles at the base of my mountain
Because over time, you grow and back then I was an ant.
But I can’t and I won’t ever go back to pushin’ pebbles,
And fuck pushin’ rocks,
Cuz rocks were the limits that statistics put on our grandparents,
Who raised our parent on those theories,
Who’ve used what they learned from those tales on lessons for us,
And now we’re proving those stereotypes correct.
And I’m not lettin’ no one tell me what I can and can’t do.
So I’ma push, and keep pushin’ and I won’t stop until
I birth some inspiration into these kids who can’t tell the difference between a boulder and a pebble.
My mother never told me that I could be whatever I wanted to be,
Because she knew that the statistics already held a position for me,
But I turned it down, and I kept on pushing my boulder to the top of my mountain.
[[FeedBack]]
Because she knew the statistics already held a position for me.
It started out with 12 of us.
Me and my crew, all the cool kids knew,
Cuz we were the loudest motherfuckers in the whole highschool.
We had a plan for the future, had it layed out too.
Thought we were ahead of the game, but we just spoke too soon.
+Stats say; 1 out of 6 of your friends
Gon’ cut class till one day you never see them again+
So, it was 10 of us.
Chillen, barely passin’ class.
Sittin’ in the back and cuttin’ everybody ass.
Always talkin’, but stood shut when a question was asked.
Until we found out we ain’t have enough credits to pass.
+Stats say; 10% of us think way too late,
And when the time comes, we won’t even graduate+
So, it was 9 of us.
Tassles to the left, I take a look at my mom.
She cryin’, I’m glad I don’t gotta deal with this shit at prom.
All fun, we got it in to our favorite songs.
We headed home, free crib, boutta get it on.
We planned it out, I’m finally gonna get her alone.
But the car crashed cuz he had too many shots of Patron.
+Stats say; 32% of traffic deaths are a result of drunk driving.
Leaving a slim chance of all you night clubbers of surviving+
So, it was 6 of us.
Way different from how we were in the start.
4 years later, already hit the halfway mark.
6 down, 6 to go. We holdin’ on for dear life.
Try to do the right thing and never think about it twice.
Don’t look back, no regrets. Stay on course through the night.
But sometimes you feel so left, that even death looks right.----Common----
You see, life’s just a game that you can’t control.
And when you’re stuck, people like to use cheat codes.
But they come with reprocusions. Truth be told.
It’s like Grand Theft Auto without free roam.
+Stats say; 59% of us are in jail.
That’s why we’re the minorities.
So someone better shift the direction of this fuckin’ story, please.
And if it ain’t you or you, then I’ma tell you what’s it gonna be.
It will be the spit comin’ out my mouth, landin’ right in front of me.
Let it settle and feed the roots of your soul.
Cuz these kids should be taught more than the best way to roll.
And fuck Jim Jones and every 167 seconds of his youtube video.
Which they felt was more appropriate than a damn porno.
But listen, I’d rather see a little boy admiring the anatomy of a woman.
Then seeing him learn about drugs and how to push it.
I guess these hustlas forgot the whole purpose of hustlin.
It was the only option left when you were in the dirt, strugglin’.
Meant to get back up on your feet, then be on your way.
Yet I see these same niggaz on the corner every gad damn day.
And it pisses me off, that these dudes are considered pushers.
And they don’t push shit.
They settled.
They’re tryna build mountains with pebbles.
And while they’re pacing back and forth 100 times,
I’m focused on pushin’ mine.
My boulders that stand together, yea the journey’s long.
But in the end it’s all worth it, because they stand strong.
And when those “Pushers” think that they’re finally on top of their mountain,
It all comes crumbling down, and they find themselves startin’
From scratch and by then,
Everyone used up the boulders and they’re stuck with pebbles again.
But I can’t front.
You’ll find a few pebbles at the base of my mountain
Because over time, you grow and back then I was an ant.
But I can’t and I won’t ever go back to pushin’ pebbles,
And fuck pushin’ rocks,
Cuz rocks were the limits that statistics put on our grandparents,
Who raised our parent on those theories,
Who’ve used what they learned from those tales on lessons for us,
And now we’re proving those stereotypes correct.
And I’m not lettin’ no one tell me what I can and can’t do.
So I’ma push, and keep pushin’ and I won’t stop until
I birth some inspiration into these kids who can’t tell the difference between a boulder and a pebble.
My mother never told me that I could be whatever I wanted to be,
Because she knew that the statistics already held a position for me,
But I turned it down, and I kept on pushing my boulder to the top of my mountain.
[[FeedBack]]
Ive been denied as many times as a dime can be multiplied thats ten minus a nine,
Add 5, then divide by six, no sex, just wrist movements and stress less nights,
No rights just left, right hand on mouse while I stop then perplex, and vexed at the equation, ive been denied as many times as a dime can be multiplied thats ten minus a nine add five then divide by six....
One
The product, the quotient, the sum of my problems can all be done with one,
Yes her, she broke thy heart and refused to give it back,
And when she gives it back im so amused by her muse that I give it in return as a thank u for returning, wat u took and shattered and the cycle repeats,
And im amazed at her power,
How she can do this to me,
I love u wayne, rly??
Ur the best friend I ever had,
Now ask me how bad this word can twist and drag my soul out form body,
Ask mario how he felt wen he saved the princess and got nothing, nadi, nada,
Maybe thats the problem,
Im too much at war with gears
My 360, 360s the mind and all they see is another dude in loved with his games more than her,
No no, I love u baby
Baby
Maybe thats it, im too much of a romantic,
I need to be a dick, treat girls like shit,
Cease the good guy and be the guy that hits,
Cuz girls like chris,
brown
And I sing, forced to dance, so they wants a guy who cheats around, then slaps u for finding out
Nah thats just a joke,
I cud never touch a woman
Everyone knows if they hit u u just shake him,
Stop it woman, stop control ur self
Yea thats wat tv taught me,
Then were locked in each others eyes and our lips r interlocking,
Interlocking,
Locking
Locked in
Not like pop locking
But locked in a relationship
Commitment
Im willing to stand out and say yes im with it
Easy
Im being to easy
Gotta be hard to get.
See if I hang then flex, then flirt with the next
She’ll see me as no less but more,
Cuz I got babes hung on me like knobs on a door
Number one, number 2, number 3, number 4
I look across the room to see if she sees how much im adored
But then I adore
Not her chest
But her ears
Not that butt but her arms
Not her face but just the eyes
Cuz see im not like most guys
And I know most guys use the same lines
But I like wat most dont see
And thats wat locked u to me
sorry if theres mistakes, www.youtube.com/cokedarapper
Bullet Proof Glass
Why is it that you love me from behind bullet-proof glass?
Why do you flinch when I move closer to you?
What are you scared of, tell me, what did I do?
You stand there and try to explain, you say,
That everything’s okay, yet you’re still standing behind that bullet-proof glass.
What’s wrong?
If I didn’t do anything then get from behind that glass.
You laugh, and hesitate to tell me bout the nightmare that you had.
About a man from the past, who got to get you from behind that bullet-proof glass.
He joked and he smiled,
You felt safe for a while.
But he got outta hand,
And here you stand now,
Behind your bullet-proof glass.
Well, I’m not that man from the past.
And understand that if I can,
I would go back in time and kick that niggaz ass.
And I know violence ain’t the key in any time or place.
But I know that it’ll bring a smile to ur face.
Even though that memory is something that you can’t erase.
When we kiss, the glass is the only thing that I can taste.
So can you please get from behind your bullet-proof glass?
[[Might Add More]]
Feedback yOo..lolsz. I juss wunned ya 2 noe I'm alive nd still writin'..
Why do you flinch when I move closer to you?
What are you scared of, tell me, what did I do?
You stand there and try to explain, you say,
That everything’s okay, yet you’re still standing behind that bullet-proof glass.
What’s wrong?
If I didn’t do anything then get from behind that glass.
You laugh, and hesitate to tell me bout the nightmare that you had.
About a man from the past, who got to get you from behind that bullet-proof glass.
He joked and he smiled,
You felt safe for a while.
But he got outta hand,
And here you stand now,
Behind your bullet-proof glass.
Well, I’m not that man from the past.
And understand that if I can,
I would go back in time and kick that niggaz ass.
And I know violence ain’t the key in any time or place.
But I know that it’ll bring a smile to ur face.
Even though that memory is something that you can’t erase.
When we kiss, the glass is the only thing that I can taste.
So can you please get from behind your bullet-proof glass?
[[Might Add More]]
Feedback yOo..lolsz. I juss wunned ya 2 noe I'm alive nd still writin'..
Feb 15, 2009
Seed of Glee
You seem to be a homemade hot soup with ingredients gathered from the whole family.
You do not hold putrid flavors like our sister’s disobedience or my consistent calamity.
Your arrival marks the make of an inequality
And the utter beginning of a one-sided sibling rivalry.
You came in dark times and illuminated my life.
Listening to your charming gibberish made me quickly get rid of my strife
Listening to your cries made my eyes liquify and instead of breaking glass you broke my ribs allowing your pain to enter
Full of sorrow caused by your mood, I ran to you fulfilling my duties as your brother.
The seed which, when planted, had grown roots of glee in my body is what you are
I’m just reminiscing about how your past, innocent actions have affected me so far.
Our appearances most likely convince our characters to be equivalent,
But my heart wishes for you to emerge as more reliable, fortunate, and more valiant.
You are either greater than, or equal to me.
Or maybe just a better equal than me.
But, there are still variables and terms to be accounted for
And as your side of the inequality increases, my love for you grows even more.
(Wrote this for class like two years ago and NOW is when I post it!!!)
You do not hold putrid flavors like our sister’s disobedience or my consistent calamity.
Your arrival marks the make of an inequality
And the utter beginning of a one-sided sibling rivalry.
You came in dark times and illuminated my life.
Listening to your charming gibberish made me quickly get rid of my strife
Listening to your cries made my eyes liquify and instead of breaking glass you broke my ribs allowing your pain to enter
Full of sorrow caused by your mood, I ran to you fulfilling my duties as your brother.
The seed which, when planted, had grown roots of glee in my body is what you are
I’m just reminiscing about how your past, innocent actions have affected me so far.
Our appearances most likely convince our characters to be equivalent,
But my heart wishes for you to emerge as more reliable, fortunate, and more valiant.
You are either greater than, or equal to me.
Or maybe just a better equal than me.
But, there are still variables and terms to be accounted for
And as your side of the inequality increases, my love for you grows even more.
(Wrote this for class like two years ago and NOW is when I post it!!!)
Spit Gold
I must write because
My mind must be wrapped around a Hershey bar of poetry because that chocolate makes me happy,
My mouth must morph into a boom box yet again
Because my bones ache to feel the rhythms in which meters transcend
From the inner vaults of my heart out to the bass pounding oval frame of my mouth
I need to spit gold,
And hope my drops of saliva solidify
So you may see
That what I say, what I feel is REAL
Because emotions are abstruse objects hidden behind the locked gates of our chest
And as I try to get high off of that pure stash of ardor, it only gets harder
It’s like my tongue wrestles itself down and my words get tripped up as they dance upwards on my vocal chords
So they begin to form an itchy hair ball between my neck and throat,
So I choke
Seems like my voice box just broke because I know what to say but my lips don’t
But I need to spit gold,
And present to you a poem: a metaphysical gift wrapped around pieces of my mind
But my bottled soul has been more than half empty
But it’s not as if one’s heart can suddenly stop its circulation of the forever stream of emotions flowing in and out of the body
It’s not like thick arrows have struck my brain and damaged my limbic system causing me to grow ascetic roots as I rid myself my one true passion, to slam
I need to slam an audience with a vicious five finger smack of this-is-what-I-love…
So much
That I want to spit gold till my lips feel so dry that Chap Stick can’t come to the rescue
Spit so much that the mike’s pores overflow with puddles of my belly-quenching moments
As my voice attempts to quench your ear’s thirst to hear more
(didn't know what else to say......for now I mean)
My mind must be wrapped around a Hershey bar of poetry because that chocolate makes me happy,
My mouth must morph into a boom box yet again
Because my bones ache to feel the rhythms in which meters transcend
From the inner vaults of my heart out to the bass pounding oval frame of my mouth
I need to spit gold,
And hope my drops of saliva solidify
So you may see
That what I say, what I feel is REAL
Because emotions are abstruse objects hidden behind the locked gates of our chest
And as I try to get high off of that pure stash of ardor, it only gets harder
It’s like my tongue wrestles itself down and my words get tripped up as they dance upwards on my vocal chords
So they begin to form an itchy hair ball between my neck and throat,
So I choke
Seems like my voice box just broke because I know what to say but my lips don’t
But I need to spit gold,
And present to you a poem: a metaphysical gift wrapped around pieces of my mind
But my bottled soul has been more than half empty
But it’s not as if one’s heart can suddenly stop its circulation of the forever stream of emotions flowing in and out of the body
It’s not like thick arrows have struck my brain and damaged my limbic system causing me to grow ascetic roots as I rid myself my one true passion, to slam
I need to slam an audience with a vicious five finger smack of this-is-what-I-love…
So much
That I want to spit gold till my lips feel so dry that Chap Stick can’t come to the rescue
Spit so much that the mike’s pores overflow with puddles of my belly-quenching moments
As my voice attempts to quench your ear’s thirst to hear more
(didn't know what else to say......for now I mean)
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