a solar eclipse to blotch out the sun’s first kiss. pull me apart, string tied to the capped symphony, she played me like the strings twirling in these words to bleed. concrete jungle, shattered cold LUV watching the years of the lady’s son born to struggle. none fuck one under the kitchen table to peer through the silhouette of a mad black man blind in thought to stumble. praying to an essence above, bite into it  raw .. bitter to the touch of the tongue, sweet in the caress of the mind, young. questions to jot, momma said you’re special with a purpose in this world. still steel searching for the purpose of LUV, entertaining the auctioning crowd on stage within my hand? a voodoo mask from the zooloo to cook black magic. from the rose to grow out of the woman’s hand, the day i died was the day i lived again .. they be thinking, well ain’t that tragic. spinning back to what pops told me, ask me more if you really got passion? i got LUV, afraid to spit what happened .. aged to devilish mic stands, from god to greed. where the old wizard man is never to live up for. call me a nigga. just that nigga that “happened”. molding rearranged figures of hatred and disgust. a slipped condom, soaked jezebel juice through soaked tears of such. butch cassidy, lost episode tracked back from fourth to third. i ain’t really ask for much, but we all fucked up. a dream of LUV’ly drugs and food for thought, i be that flightless bird. symbiotic throw up on the faces of the youth. bask in the rust golden palace of bust ten folding truth. you can be my girl, turned woman who i look into the eyes of the beast when i say what? from hatred. i look into the eyes of you when i spit i LUV you too. to not be holy is to live a hollow life without worth? spiritual revitalization not opening the replaced holy book, talking bout the rapture, but the written words that of heaven to be above and hell to dwell inside the minds of forever since birth. reporter man once again to approach me questioning from what is black and how the youth is unaware of opportunities lay flat. when, materialistic beings rock gold chains and act tough but by soul and heart they really used to fleeing. how black culture is what is said to be .. not understanding that the rich and pure black minds are once to be heard again. how i  am a fucking kid who raises the fist only to be hated once more. pops speaks from the heart, momma taught me to follow what you sought, yet from all the teaching you can only find your own gift. own LUV. own fuck to give. yet when i told him i highly disagree with this stereotype, i got looks as if to wonder where this black kid came up with this shit? or  how i just wanna make her proud, cracked medallion by the center of bad dreams to come. you deep, you righteous, you spiritual, you spit it from the heart of many heartbreaks. now, tell me you be playing when you thinking being you determines where you from .. [ <3 ].

a solar eclipse to blotch out the sun’s first kiss. pull me apart, string tied to the capped symphony, she played me like the strings twirling in these words to bleed. concrete jungle, shattered cold LUV watching the years of the lady’s son born to struggle. none fuck one under the kitchen table to peer through the silhouette of a mad black man blind in thought to stumble. praying to an essence above, bite into it  raw .. bitter to the touch of the tongue, sweet in the caress of the mind, young. questions to jot, momma said you’re special with a purpose in this world. still steel searching for the purpose of LUV, entertaining the auctioning crowd on stage within my hand? a voodoo mask from the zooloo to cook black magic. from the rose to grow out of the woman’s hand, the day i died was the day i lived again .. they be thinking, well ain’t that tragic. spinning back to what pops told me, ask me more if you really got passion? i got LUV, afraid to spit what happened .. aged to devilish mic stands, from god to greed. where the old wizard man is never to live up for. call me a nigga. just that nigga that “happened”. molding rearranged figures of hatred and disgust. a slipped condom, soaked jezebel juice through soaked tears of such. butch cassidy, lost episode tracked back from fourth to third. i ain’t really ask for much, but we all fucked up. a dream of LUV’ly drugs and food for thought, i be that flightless bird. symbiotic throw up on the faces of the youth. bask in the rust golden palace of bust ten folding truth. you can be my girl, turned woman who i look into the eyes of the beast when i say what? from hatred. i look into the eyes of you when i spit i LUV you too. to not be holy is to live a hollow life without worth? spiritual revitalization not opening the replaced holy book, talking bout the rapture, but the written words that of heaven to be above and hell to dwell inside the minds of forever since birth. reporter man once again to approach me questioning from what is black and how the youth is unaware of opportunities lay flat. when, materialistic beings rock gold chains and act tough but by soul and heart they really used to fleeing. how black culture is what is said to be .. not understanding that the rich and pure black minds are once to be heard again. how i  am a fucking kid who raises the fist only to be hated once more. pops speaks from the heart, momma taught me to follow what you sought, yet from all the teaching you can only find your own gift. own LUV. own fuck to give. yet when i told him i highly disagree with this stereotype, i got looks as if to wonder where this black kid came up with this shit? or  how i just wanna make her proud, cracked medallion by the center of bad dreams to come. you deep, you righteous, you spiritual, you spit it from the heart of many heartbreaks. now, tell me you be playing when you thinking being you determines where you from .. [ <3 ].


Posted 2 years ago with 1,253 notes #spoek mathambo  #swag  #dope  #fashion  #LUV  #hipster  #hipster shit  #indie  #jackets  #vintage  #retro