I'm not much of a rapper

but I do like to rhyme

and at times it rolls like water over curved glass,

with just enough bubble and sass to save my "white" ass.

Then I hit a mental block and want to stop the clock

because I have nothing to give for the shock and awe listeners seek.

Not the weak shit that often comes

from my mind to my fingers,

concepts I hope to write, so it lingers,

like the toxins from bubble bee stingers.

Bringers of old traditions know,

tobacco will draw the poison flow,

so it's only suiting I do my convoluting

rambles behind the smoke of a cigarette.

Without regret or shame I claim my nonexistent fame

as another proser,

a wanna-be word wizard

and rhythmic composer.

I'm not a poser, though some would disagree,

considering their perspective

of my degree

of making words dance prettily.

Pitifully I once sung a rap about my after-school detention,

though the verses weren't a high priority for retention.

Did I mention I ramble if I let myself go,

into this rhyme scheme theme

of a talking flow

searching for words I know I know

but can't think far enough ahead,

so I dread,

I cower inside absent a lick of pride

trying to ride the tide of a language wanting to be shared.

Funny thing though,

English wasn't a subject I much cared for in my youth.

The truth of math

carved my path

in the task of custom cabinetry.

That was my reality as familial labor,

my father's pride-- his favorite flavor.

He gave me my work ethic

but didn't do shit to help me commit

the rules of English grammatical law

to memory.

Would you believe me if I said

I was doing this while watching a movie?

Of course you would,

this is so horribly-whimsically corny.

|| another_proser ||

I spit fire

I desire

To acquire

Something more than clothes on wire

I go higher

Searching harder

When it's darker

Look for lights at ends of tunnels

In nights when darkness caves

I'm afraid

That I have never been afraid

Of all that lies ahead

From tomorrow

To my death bead

I don't borrow

I stay original

And when the bridge is all

Crumbling down

I drive around

Never looking to back down

I breathe fire

My entire life's ablaze

When I gaze

At what's behind

I never find

A moment to regret

Let alone to forget

I'll take it all

When death calls

I'll go out in fire

Exam in 2 hours. 

Just got out the shower.

why do I procrastinate, 

then look at my grade, and hate,

the profs and the institution

and realize that my new resolution

is to go to out less, wake up early, and study

but for this exam, my mind feels muddy

A little Reddit here, and a little facebook there

now I'm only left with an hour to prepare

and the hour passes, and I go there

the prof hands me the sheet and looks at me with a glare

as if to say beware and to put a scare

on my face, but I know that deep inside

I can't hide 

from the fifty that will ruin my grade

going to be homeless, having to resort to raid 

and loot and steal

begging on the corner for my next meal

my life is all over because I procrastinate

I'm sure all university students can relate. 

But something funny happens

and I see,

that university is a joke to me

I go in my exam with a smile on my face

and embrace

my fifty with grace. 

IDK. I'm out of rhymes. 

objective reflections

reverse to introspective

with metrics extensive

go back to the electives

i dont have a problem with the world as we know it

im comfortably sedated though i never really show it 

could  be brash or seductive

but never bet against me

intelligence and wisdom

will always be the right way

but sometimes the wrong way

can be fun to

climb up to the rooftops and scream fuck you

so disconnected from the rest of the planet

dont watch the news because its all bull shit and static

cant smoke the chronic because it now makes me edgy

because what if the past comes back and tries to get me

but...

NOTES

 that's the point where i had to stop because i dont practice freestyle ... im no rhymenocerous . also it was very painful for me to listen  to this played back to transcribe it. i cant stand the sound of my own voice played back.

Oh man.

I'm fighting all the time against the man.

He's always trying to get me.

He's always trying to win against me.

But I won't let him.

He falls.

I stumble back

but I don't call

for my momma like that

lil boy does.

Oh hell nah.

He runs away, but I'm still fighting.

Hey man, I fucked up your shit 

so let's play man,

'Cause you're rocking this ship

and if you keep that up

I'll fuck you up

because no one messes with me

and gets away with it...

they told me to write a rap 

but shit, what the fuck do i rap about?

dont know if i can swear in this

but fuck i sweared twenty times now

shit, hadnt been that many

i love to over exaggerate

the one thing they dont exaggerate is what people hate

the people hate to contemplate that now beyoncé's songs aint about them 

the one thing we seem to have got this month they fightin

police be gunnin us down, dont even know what the problem is 

because my melanin high, yours aint

there that problem is

yeah its that stereotypical black shit, rapping about what happened to us

tell me that system aint wrong, guess its still not made for us

im black

and im rapping 

and whoevers reading this might not understand my passion 

and i might get fired off in the comment section 

is an $8 check worth what im getting 

but someone reading this might be a believer

might understand that thanks to Martin, we're the number one dreamers

and i know im scared to post it but im being brave

assassined on the hotel balcony, look what he braved 

i dont know where this rap is going 

for 8 dollars we'll forget every depravity they throwin