The Gang's All HereA Poem by Mr. Deft DictionWorking on something like an ode to the reason why I write.Just the size of the speakers in the projects will let you know how real this is. Fingers play the percussion, which doubles as the kitchen table, the same place where mama created the cobbler. These lyrics move through blood streams, clogging arteries, and fattening the score of rhythmic dreams. Shiiiit.... first nuts were busted off of hip-hop, before reaching the full potential of today's conglomerate. Masters-of-the-gate, safe-key guarding what they wanted to wash away, realizing that good business means cashing in on payday, took all of that lovey-dovey good feeling away. Shiiiit.... even non-conspiracy theories flip and turn states evidence, evidently when chosen, the words over the beats become relevant. Poaching us for our Ivory tusks by giving us free lunch; but free? There is no such a thing, so we gotta get it another way. Writers and rhymers swallow down pills, chase it with liquor... they say it keeps the quill wet, and thoughts flow quicker. Just the size of the speakers in the projects will let you know how real this is. Shiiiit.... I did the dirty work and Scarface gave me the soundtrack, he dropped F**k Faces. Nas was Live at the BBQ before that, Main Source and them, upstaging. B.I.G. did go out Notoriously.... too soon; but nonetheless, notoriously. Then P. Diddy brought him back to life again with Victory, and I wondered if when I went, would anybody be Missing me. DMX brought out the ice-grill in me, then I really lost my mind, beyond a Reasonable Doubt when I copped the new Jay-Z.
© 2008 Mr. Deft DictionAuthor's Note
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6 Reviews Added on March 13, 2008 AuthorMr. Deft DictionMorrisville, NCAbout“HI, BABY! HOW ARE YOU?” KAYLEE RAN FULL SPEED INTO A CROUCHED AUNT TABITHA, KICKING A LITTLE WIND OUT OF HER AMPLE FRAME. AUNT TABITHA IS MATTHEW’S STEP-SISTER, AFTER THEIR PARENTS.. more..Writing
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