Top of my game

I be in the hood soaking in life to stay on top of my game, I don’t cook or cut but I’m still on top of the game, I travel block to block and still see cardboard murals and candles flickering pain. I could hear the sounds of echoing guns from distant slums, pa rum pa pum pum death drums, nothing changed, there’s older mothers consoling younger mothers who just lost a son because they already felt the mental trauma of losing one. Lil shorties are watching the big guys, look he lives around us but not like us I want to be just like I’m, so whatever he’s doing I’m gonna try. You’re an automatic icon if you don’t have to worry about puttn food on the table and keeping the lights on. Hunger is going to make peeps pursue what they visualize, they don’t understand that ninety nine percent of what they see is visual lies, twenty twenty can’t see through the facade so before they get a good look at the situation they’ll be in too deep like when we return to God. I’m hearing ayo mo I love the hustle, I’m always going to play… That’s because they haven’t been locked up tallying days, felt bullet wound aches on rainy days or lost enough homies to make you think horrible thoughts, like… how long does it take for a buried body to decay? I loved the thought of clutching big money I just hated the reactions to achieve that goal, after every death i shun brighter, there’s less PC to spread when the circle gets tighter, that didn’t make me happy, how could I be?, wasn’t hustln with strangers I was gettn it with a crime family, I went from poverty to sittn on a hundred grand, angry. I loved my brothers, I didn’t know the last time we sipped wine and broke bread would be our last supper, we was in this together, the more I got ahead the more I suffered.

Infinite the poet 2018.

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