Da Truth Is…
Tell Da Truth, you honestly thought that I was wack once
And now you anticipate every word that’s coming through my gapped fronts
All because you are a trapped stunt?
I’m cooking up 5 star meals and you are still handing out a packed lunch
You can’t truly sit here and deny the power of my pen game
It’s enough to leave you confused, asking if I am insane
When I die, they will be researching, even searching for my friend’s names
While other authors and poets will be dissecting my corpse and picking through my membrane
Truthfully, I’m like the freezing cold in the wintertime
You think you got her wrapped up and I can still hit her anytime
Just off the strength of a minute rhyme
Or maybe it will just take a mini line
Then I’ll send her back to you woozy like she was drunk off the Henny shine
Whether it’s a poem, a blog, or music, I’ll come head strong
Have Biggie returning walking in Brooklyn claiming that I was Dead Wrong
Have Pac in the Underground, saying that it’s the Same Song
I’m reincarnated from past legends imprisoned
I’m the colors of the universe trapped in a prism
I’m the long lost defiant son of the late Shirley Chisolm
I’m the brain child of the most talented whether their dead or living
Think about it. Da Truth
