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,

Respect it. 

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!

Mirrors everywhere,

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,

I’ll parish;

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

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