Venti Venti

Flipping through subsets of my soul/
Digital pictures of old young subjects/
Poor products of guns drugs and sex/
From where project prodigies grow stunted/
Not oddly from it though/
Blowing smoke clouds to make days sunny/
Son grippin' a mug sipping crushed iced coffee mixed with some Rum/
Getting bent until my troubles get drunk and forget to haunt me/
Dawn spilling through city buildings spawns raw thoughts of my God not being with me through these streets that I walk/
Something I'd never want/
Molding art from cold vivid visions I sense I'll carry with me infinitely/
Still sifting through memories of getting gone but going nowhere/
Just getting tipsy, hitching blue and red lines with no fare/
Living like it's no fair/
Cares get thrown up in air like gang-signs to squares who'd claim Heaven over a road here, made of concrete/
Home to everyday Kings and Queens/
Disowned heirs to thrones of their own Democracy/
A mockery of what we're told we ought to believe/
People piece popping for peace/
Seems like I almost gotta be shot to be free/
Because everybody that speaks often gets offed for their speech/
Feet at the bottom, still we see from the top of the peak/
Base jumping from dreams/
No strings, just belief/
Over trees, I'd really rather grow to be a Chief/
Trouble tryna box me in, homie bout to show em' the ropes though/
Rope-A-Dope for those folks who didn't know he could cope/
I wanna float, and be Me/
Treat the flow like a sea and just coast on the ocean/
Breath shallow, think deep/
Until the words that I've been given getcha' open like a C/
And the grief is no more/
Read between the lines they won't teach/
No sleep for those who don't dream/
Fake truth consumers/
Eye-pods and forbidden fruit illumined computers/
My generation outnumbers the baby boomers, it's cray/
Hard to think with a brain slave to tumors/
Things that they induce to create what we do on a daily basis/
It's foolish/
Making mula is what makes us/
I'm tryna live today like I'm alive for one day/
Because no oasis awaits us, if we remain in a wakened hiatus/
Neo soul, dodging shots up on that roof still/
Rest of the populous overdosing on blue pills and mollies/
Wake up and smell the coffee before it's too chilled, and truth spills out the top of the cup and soon will runneth over with troop drills/
It's too real, I hope you like non-fiction/
History isn't written from what it depicts in it/
Endless in prediction like spitting image mirrors though, so pay attention with wages Angels give us just for staying His children/
Yahweh/
I pray that one day my brothers and sisters get to lay eyes upon his face when we stride through the gates/
Spray painting murals of our story right by the sky's arc/
Getting paid, glad my bucks really do reside in the stars..