Grow Up

If you not a new rapper and you talking those coke bars
I don’t give a fuck who you are, homie grow up
There’s a plethora of things you can speak on
Insteada droppin another weak song, flow up

If you black and you rap and all you wanna do is set us back
Shut ya trap we honestly don’t need to hear all that
See, you not gon’ make me believe you got Gs
But you still on the corner wit crack homie fall back

You got kids, you gonna let em listen to your hits
Teach em all how they should sell bricks
Lil homies on the front lines dyin cause they out here livin what you spit
That’s gotta make you sick

And nah they not blameless, but if you don’t feed em them trash tracks they might be a bit less brainless
Maybe they won’t pray to the stainless maybe they won’t be so aimless
But you just want a new chain hanging so you don’t really care who bangin

I get it, im wit it, it’s money over all
But what you gonna do when they bury all of yall

The Useless Automaton

My function is to talk
Whether in rhyme or not I share my mind
I’ve been programmed to talk
The quotes I’ve spoke are all mine
And that is all I am
I possess no other function
No scientific notions, no athletic motion
No aptitude for the ocean
I can’t even punch in
My programming lacks the clock in function
My thoughts are often bunched in with what appears to be intelligence
But that’s just negligence on the part of my programmers
I’ve banged most of that out with hammers
I’ve attempted to adapt but failed to find an apt application of my aptitude
Maybe it’s my attitude
I thought of changing my longitude and latitude but saying it out loud sounds like an empty platitude
I’ve tried servitude and showed gratitude to any that would guide me
But they’d just jive me and I’d hide me so they’d like me

You see my function is to talk
But not from force
Of course freedom creates the strongest horse but what am I
Worthless if I can’t define and live by what I was designed for
So I try more and they ignore
Because why should they care what I’m here for

When my function is to talk and they don’t care what I say
No matter what way you view it I’m stupid
A wasted effort of my creators a danger to those who see me fail
They’ll see me as a cautionary tale
They’ll make no more like me they’ll likely blithely dispose of me
But I guess they do so justly

See all I can do is talk
And not even on command
It takes time to comprehend the world around me
It confounds me but I see a beauty and it astounds me
I try to intertwine this entrancing elegance in my eloquence
But their avarice for numbness is in abundance

And so I talk
Quietly into the silence to give sight to the blinded
Or thoughts to the absent minded
Or jump start a heart that’s grinded to a halt
At least that’s my intention
But I’m a worthless invention
And I guess that’s all my fault
For those who can’t adapt die
And now that time is mine

AOS: Live

I actually went back and forth with myself for quite some time as to whether or not I wanted to post this. I considered how the crowd wasn’t what I expected it to be and how embarrassing that might be. I considered that no one would really care to even see the performance. My biggest consideration was showing my mistakes.

This performance is from February and at the time, I thought my health was fine. I felt I had made great strides in controlling an unknown condition and this was my first major test. To many, compared to my past experiences, it may seem like a resounding success, but I knew better. During the performance, I completely blanked on the opening of “Nobody”. I recovered pretty well in my opinion, but it lingered in my mind from that night on. Something is wrong with me. Everyone makes mistakes, yes, but there is something quite different from a simple, recoverable mistake and literally forgetting what you were doing while on stage.

I didn’t want to show that part of myself. I didn’t want to post of social media the health issues that I’m continuing to go through. I didn’t want to talk about how many times I’ve passed out, how many blood tests I’ve done, how many doctors have thrown in the towel on me, how many different medications and supplements I’ve tried, how often I have considered suicide….I didn’t want me to be about any of that. I wanted to be about my music. I wanted to be about my growth, my accomplishments, and my triumph. I realize now that showing only the best of me would be just as hypocritical of me as many other artists that seem perfect until a scandal. Everyone has a journey from point A to Z and it is in sharing the ups and downs that we all grow and feel more united.

With that said, I give you my unedited performance from RIFF (Richmond International Film Festival). I hope you enjoy it. I hope you see my effort. I hope somewhere in my selfish ramblings, something inspires you to try one more time to achieve whatever it is that you wish for in this life. Thank you.

*and as always, S/O to the homie BC Music 1st for coming through and getting all this footage for me. no idea what I would do without you, my dude!!*


Another Night

​I just want a minor reprieve.

From these demons in my ear and the things that they believe.

I just want to sleep in peace without the weight of negativity suffocating me. 

I don’t want this to be my reality anymore. 

These a.m. hours leave a sour taste stain on my brain that I abhor.

The candles escape simply by burning out. 

But I’m not allowed that escape route.

I don’t want to sit here with you misery.

We shouldn’t be so completely and yet we are eternally. 

Another night escapes you, but i cannot.

Silently accepting my lot in life as you slowly take from me all that I got. 

Reverse Reality

​As he walked through his reality,  all he saw was greatness.

Models to his left, photographers to his right, rappers to the center.

There were smiles and drinks for all so how could he hate this? 

He had memories of another time, a better time, that would not allow him to accept this reality ever. 

So he escaped.  While everyone else “lived” now,  he put on his goggles and “lived” then. 

He had conversations in person again. His problems were private and his knowledge was true. 

Liars were confronted and anonymity was only for luchadors as it had once been. 

This virtual reality was overwhelming.  There was too much right here, too much wrong there,  and he immediately knew what to do.

And so he stayed. Never sought after by anyone in reality.

Until his physical body began to decay and his health faded away. 

Everyone was where they wanted to be.

What a beautiful way to die outside of the fray.

Contaminated Conscious

​Another episode of Love & Hip Hop before texting her ex

A molly before heading to the club next

Trap beats and rhythms move her body but her soul is paralyzed  

She’s yet to realize the extent to which she’s been dehumanized 

The saddest eyes only attract guys who will never do her right

But at this height she can’t see right and just wants his game to be tight

She doesn’t know how real shit is

The haze of strange personifications has her in a daze as to who she is

Wise minds pray it’s just a phase but she’s unfazed cause she’s a boss bitch, it’s so sick 

She requires mental ventilation after the inhalation of such pollution

But her mental incarnation is a life sentence due to street infatuation

Perspective’s Answer

​Special you are not sir

Unique is a moniker not reserved for you

I agree to a depressing degree unfortunately

Cause the sweat on my brow, my heaving chest, and tired legs from chasing wasting  time of mine disguised as a grind are evidence of mistakes of mine

I thought myself divine

Disappointment, disinterest, and depression taught me better as they do to mere mortals

Eventually, I had to see the answer.