Raw

I’ll give it to ya how ever you want it, how ever you need it like soul 2 soul, I can go hard like the finished process of manufacturing or I can let pain talk from all the murdering, either way I won’t be glamorizing, educating is my goal. See I’m an OG, Castle Hill is my stomping grounds, that’s where I studied and learnt the ropes of Coke, dope and guns, I wasn’t the only student, there was many pupils just like me in the slums, the forefathers were hard knock professors, we took notes of lingo, actions and mannerisms, we grew up and became clones, a different generation of twins following tradition of hells comesutra leaving us in awkward positions like rigor mortus set in.

Jail because of directs or observation, homelessness after raids and evictions, mourners because sand box homies never came out of critical condition, their condition couldn’t of been any worse, we did those final trap laps following a hearse. What we studied was mistakes before they happened, we only saw the action without the reaction so we got stuck doing the math to correct them, for many it’s to late, they’re considered the late, teenagers meeting early fate walked thru the pearly gates… This is what gave birth to the “8” infinite the poet, the lemniscate.

Every time I write I relive painful memories, my mind rewinds time to the point where meals were our only worries, we had each other, so what we lived in poverty. We got older and that hunger is what took most of my homies, hurt had me screaming out God plz take me… I had yet to learn my purpose, had to live thru hell to be able to spread wisdom on its surface, I burn in super nova because of the life of la costra nostra and losing a lot of good-fellas, kitchen chemistry, carry’n gats, stashn packs to stack racks broke hearts of many mothers. I share scars so others don’t have to get shot, stabbed or locked to feel my pain.

Infinite the poet 2019