From This, For Tomorrow.

From this dimension, I sit left side facing sideways on the 1

Downtown, getting down time for my down soul. America threw in dirty laundry, I had no Downy.

Drowsy, unknowingly.. I live in shackles and not just my physical element. They decided it was out of fashion so in retaliation they follow with feeding the future with fatuity so they live to follow fashion when it’s really just binge and purge.

I diverge.

Because they allow this to occur, I mean I do and so do you too, word.

Words of Mirandas are really for the illiterate, I get it. Define what’s mine and then tell me my limits.. not with it. I’m livid.

How can I come home to watch another grown black man wait for his bus and get pinned down because it’s a little too sus for any of MY people to go about their daily lives if there aint no huff and puff.

My soul drowns thinking of my cousin Kimani and the anxiety I feel now because a simple HOODIE

Is such a threat to the society, no one can breathe.. We’re left here to bleed

I’m sick, I bleed. Please, deceive, and leave me naive.  I just misconceive how ironically NYPD is truly the deadliest gang walking, or for any Babylon system at that

Joey Badass tweeted what happened, simply placed his hands in his pockets for protection from the weather and now he’s questioned whether he’s up to no good or he’s just another, there’s literally no way under their perception, I just hope that Martin got to meet King.

From this.. aspect back in Jamaica we would expect America to be built on opportunity and fortune. We starved, saved, and craved a life that now made current going out every night and walking 10 minutes away for water that much beautiful.

She played me. She played me.. and told me she loved me, fed me, engaged me and then raped me.. until I didn’t know me. My mind.. not any peace, not any piece.

From this.. street corner I stand on 225th.I go through life with my tightest grip on this pen, sing rifts every so often, pray to a creator who allows me to blossom and smile to the musicians on the A to Brooklyn.

From this day, and every day of my yesterdays and the forthcomings of tomorrows. Seek, evolve, master, spread. They may have killed off our people, but the mastermind is never dead.

 

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