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Dojo
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Mushin
War; something many have not experienced before.
Sleeping on the floor, hoping they don't kick in your door
hoping for one day more to get a breath of fresh air.
Your lives spared another hour. You sit and you stare
out the living room window, creating your own limbo
as your circle of friends is looking more like an enso.
You're drunk off of that jin, though. You know that it's a no-no.
Now your mind is like a pogo and your clarity is so-so.
You grab your newest weapon. A sweet pea shooter
that'll never stop a warrior but make an evil doer
out of frail cats not well aquainted with the beef
thinking that you're slick to try and sneak up on a chief.
It's a steep fail:success rate. You'll get your chest plate
cracked and your body sent down stream. Critical check mate.
You'll meet your death date all because your ego was swollen up
to the point that your logic was far from holdin' up.
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You should've been rolling up the Buddha nature easy.
Coulda got your mind straight, but now you're acting sleazy.
You replicate the t.v. with sickening pinpoint accuracy
and I'm just stuck in awe wondering when will you foolish bastards see;
that everything is sold to you. You're doing what you're told to do
thinking individuality is some broken social tool.
Sadly you're just hopeless fools and that fact seems concrete.
I even crafted words carefully on this calm beat
hoping I could reach a youth's ears before he's slain
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in the streets or gets grasped by the hunger and pain
of a cold world. Inner city urban tale unfolding,
proving you ain't gotta go West for Fear and Loathing.
You focus on the clothing. You focus on the particles
that blink before your eyes, ignoring every article
of evidence I provide to smash your whack hypothesis.
I'd go in greater detail but would rather cue the prolepsis.
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How many funerals must you attend before you stop trying to pretend
this fabricated thug life won't have had you make your end?
The message I send with raw slang and attitude
can be a testament to how you don't have to act as rude
or so gritty. You don't have to terrorize your city
or throw up gang signs. That life ain't pretty.
To make a mark in history you have to make a statement
and never stop to ask yourself where the empty hate went.
With knowledge on my plate, I invite you to this banquet
to relieve the pressure of potential stretcher and the blanket
pulled over your cold shell. No immortal soul
but you're trapped in Hell til you die or try to make the drama fold.
That's how my momma told me growing at a young age.
Avoid the drug dealing life, avoid the jealousy and rage.
Cause when the blade's drawn there's no skipping tracks or rewind,
so take the one life you're given with a clear mind.
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