Broke stride as last of men realized their deep deceit.nThis troubling advance of half-assed crews crowd these streets.nNever mind of who I am, son, just listen when I speaknBroken paragraphs hold wrath of a hundred million deep.nBleak circumstance led masses to only want to dancenA bastard child of Reaganomics posed in a B-Boy stancenMake our leaders play minstrel, Left with none to lead our people.nHow the fuck am I gonna shake your hand, when we never been seen as equals?nDeemed evil by those housed in church steeples.nFalse prophets read backwards from broken tablets to the feeble,nI seen you!nRegurgitate their lies.nI'll bide my time with scrolls and ancient's wine.nHeady brew left mark on this hazy scribe.nIf stars align I suppose even the blind will see,nHow they stole our last voice, corrupted culture into industry.nFew minutes remain,nA tame soul wanders wild when it dreams.nMine are filled with ill visions of soot and dope fiends.nThese slit wrists won't rest till I spill these last drops.nTarnished skin only sin when I awoke on sidewalk.nnnSeen your movements through peripheralnRemain same individual.nWhen a man's viewed as criminal to act animal is logical.nnnAudible tones honed to hold substancenForm sentencenPoor reluctant poet, speak prosenRefuse to beg repentancennnReluctant poet speak prosenIncite our peoplesnWe got raked through those coalsnOnce the truth was divulged.nnnConscience calls thoughts subliminalnActions all cyclicalnDeplorable descendants of men depressed clinical.nAnswers seem visible when visionlessnUseless souls fold under pressure like hands pray to false Jesus.nnnInadequate adversaries advance awkwardly.nAnger expressed outwardlynCauses ranks to break amongst these frail MC's.nnnYour fictional tales told with conviction.nConcise concepts once written enter bloodstreamnsince this inks been forbidden.nnnDistorted poet, speak prosenIncite our peoplesnWe got raked over coalsnBut the truth's still untold.nnnMeaning lost to these zealotsnPrefer bullets to ballotsnWatch the rich sip from chalicenAs these eyes fill with malicenPeasant hands remain callousnas our days retain darknessnI swallow razor blades to keep my vocal cords sharpened.nnnMorbid mixture of mistrust and anger paints picture.nPerception now blurred words slurred to form scripture.nnnThese sullen souls misinformednStorm gates of strongholdnStrange fate that I chosenMorbid poet speak prose.nnnTattered voices arosenRed Blood written on scrollnEscapes throat an ill flownFor my violence atoned.nModest thoughts monotonenInfant MC's play grownnFound them hung in hallwaysnfrom cords on microphones.