[Pharoahe Monch]

My mom is in the bedroom, cryin again

Sister's on the street corner, lyin again

Just heard about another one of my niggaz dyin again

I'm tryin again to make moves..

I'll be damned if we go hungry

Ever since my pops passed the responsibilities belonged to me

This song you see is like an ode to God

that he blessed my last breath to be Allah U Akbar

And this city is hard, tenement buildings are barred

incarcerated and scarred, no sentiment for when it becomes

time for war I'm tryin to score like Bernard King

My vocal box sling verbal cocaine like the GOVERNMENT

I told you I'd hurt the music

Travellin back, bustin shots at {blank} before Christ was persecuted

Mathematically we live at right angles

Fuck the star spangled, the makers of fallen angels

danglin from moon crescents, I persevere, breathe the air

inhale the effervesence of life

This street game is stiflin I'm triflin upholdin a rifle

Peerin from behind the eyes of God, we at odds with ourselves

What is it worth when this - barren metropolis prevail

Scale the walls of hell - trail of a octopus..



I seen it all through the eyes of a needle

Depletion of the planet, brainwash of the people

Niggaz'll never learn (shit) we just concern about

who's fuckin who, when time is of significance

Ghost, we disregard the most magnificent

Eat of the fruit that is poisonous and lethal

Stuck in the crux of the spell with the evil

Credits about to roll and hell is the sequel



[Prince Poetry]

Incarcerated Scarfaces in all places

Crack sales rise, failed lives, cops and robber car chases

Y-2-K fuck up, you're left faceless

Hustlers bury money in Garcia Vega cigar cases

Give the