On a Quest for Love, I do it for my Roots mane;
For my grandmother avoiding that gnus hang;
And we have to do the same…
Runnin’ like Usain; running like U sane!
Put a hole in a man’s pocket, I bet he drops a dime, that’s why I don’t carry loose change,
But carry a .44 like Barack Hussein,
And it’s up for reelection,
2 in the Bush, to ensure son won’t be resurrected,
It’s like every government is a ventriloquist.
Every dummy has citizenship.
I’m not listenin’ to the bank to find out what my interest is.
I’m interested in penmanship;
Decreasing the visits to the prisons, shit.
Kids growing up without a pit to piss,
While everybody sippin’ tea….
And as the tea steeps, I take another shot of Hennessy.
Drinking away my kidneys just to bring back the kid in me,
Because we grew up quick….
Now I’m seeing shit!
But all I see is enemies;
All I see is inner me’s.
A sinner’s plea?
Or did I create this world in the image of me?
But if I made it in 7 days, you bet’ not call it weak!
Seems like every chick is Nicki, and every dude is meek,
And if the meek shall inherit,
Or end up in a Parrish in a country that’s Southeast of Paris,
Selling Heaven, to a man living in hell.
Inhale, but he can’t exhale,
Because you can’t excel….
At least I see all the hell I caused my ex,
So maybe that’s best.
And, if I Rome,
Do as I do until you make it back Home.
Poem by: Steven Farrar