We call cops pigs, cuz like pork, they ain’t peace,
Revelations spoken, I’m from where the sun rises in the east.
To serve and protect–naw, they sell you out like a lease,
Ask your main chick, my credibility has been on the streets.
My name will be remembered like the highest mountain,
Touch me, and water will pour out your body like a fountain.
Concrete indented with saliva from demons,
Sinful acts will never buy you freedom
Predicting success, rewriting this test,
Gained respect before I graced the earth, while you make it a request.
Can’t complain about similarities in life because I learned from the best,
Dogmatic tribes remain recidivists with broken vests
Scars release pain, but always remain visceral,
Rereading your work, just to reproduce the reciprocal.
Charisma is a gift, not something so typical,
World is in shambles because the masses follow a ritual.
Visionary, producing pictures envisioned by your kinfolk
Can’t see the crowd chanting, you’ve been broke
The False Reality Of Martin will be a splash in the sea;
It’s my time to go into the deep end, and rest with the spirits that be.
No publisher needed for my book to rise,
The writing world can’t see my eyes.
There is never no need to lie,
Publishing houses need me, but I can’t hear the cries.
Just something to feed the streets. I have had street credibility for as long as my breath has been present.