Art-of-facts Im a bartender...not a drink mixer... my urban tongue is brolic like them dudes from Harlem. I do sets and rep. Spittn bout weight...coke, dope, grinders and Pyrex glass is how i gain mass, speakn bout mixes, expanders and diluters is how I get cuts. Im lyrically fit, locked and load with extra clips to shoot holes in the daily urban eclipse to shed light on sons thatll fall like solstices in the bricks and thatll never to rise again to see another summer or winter. Dudes like the phrase keep it real, well it cant go no realer for my listeners and readers. I shall never be muted my wisdom is pure...it cant be filtered, my title as an urban griot will never be disputed, I spit with clarity dudes spit cloudy water...polluted. You arent real if you dont speak the truth and nothing but the truth, dont corrupt the youth. The streets bring temporary joy as well as infinite pain, its the ying and yang of the life, situations never remain the same, we was poor yesterday, rich today, in jail or dead tomorrow, thats the curriculum in the game the hungry play. In between the bragging about dimes, how much gwop you got and the foreign cars, speak about how many dropped, how many that got twenty three hour lock down, tell them about the knife and slug scars, tell them about the raids and life attempts dont leave nothing exempt. #infinite = trap facts, in few thousand years the bones of my peers will be in the hands of archeologist as this eras fast life artifacts. Infinite the poet 2014
Posted on: Sat, 04 Oct 2014 18:41:13 +0000
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