WP 144: Am I back? Am I bad? Am I better than ever? You can have the shirt on my back, but you’ll prolly need a sweater. Cause I can bring it when I sing it, not to be some arrogant competitor, but I know what I can does, and I’m colder than the weather. And sometimes I needs to be, cause the heat is more than temperature, it’s the tension, it’s the tongue-lash, and I how I can’t keep it together. I’m a rag doll, tossed between the doggone whatever’s, passive Asian male and completely off-center. I’m completely incomplete, and my wordplay’s like letters, in an alphabet soup for grown bed-wetter. I just wish that I could spit it like a minute-win-it debtor, but I’m less bass in yer face and more falsetto ghetto tenor. What does that even mean Dan? That my “better” hasn’t entered. I’m just a go-getter chasing dreams, and by any means, I will get her.
WP 136: I got writer’s block, I’m on the fence of whether I should toss it in. I’m listenin to Lupe as I’m grooving, and there goes my pen. Sometimes the inspiration comes sixpence gone. Invest again. You give whatever you can give, cause one life is how it really ends. That means no color, race, or creed, and certainly no kind of man, will stand between me and this end, the means are meaningless without a plan. I’m monsterful, quite awful, blatant, blunt, and reckless, friend. Two-hundred feet seems like good distance, keep it lest you lose a limb. Either way, if yer here to witness, give me this and I’ll make it win. My aggression is a grenade all ready, and yer presence here is pulling pins. Subtle? No. But I can be, if the situation calls, I’ll clutch intense. Quiet, loud, you doubt me now, but come tomorrow, you’ll be convinced.