Now should this be my last discussion, making movies over percussion. Painting pictures with poisonous brushes in the future rushing tryna make my point before they started blushing, dusting off the snowflakes before they started cussing, or my last recital pass on the mic wave good bye like a tidal, or tsunami the scene and take the title if life's a beach, I'm building sandcastles for the city, with every grain I maintain to build history. I'm still rhyming tryna sparkle like a diamond but never snuck an oozy in my army jacket lining denying the trends , but still reppin the ends NOTTs a hip-hop mecca big up the first gens, big up the first pens lifted to inspire from quotables to train carriage tags to admire from trainers on wires, to the, livers and dyers, the internal tryers holding the touch even higher

Dear journal it's year 5.0 barely alive though 20 years ago I left the island to go solo still Petro, and paranoid about my pen game even though I get applause I still have to maintain certain states, keep ya name on the map. Integrity first class, I dropped the Morning of Masks I found the Rainbows in the Rubble brought the circus to town, it Irks me now somehow so I'm still on the prowl searching for the point of view while I point at the views, I get so confused amused how you Score more but never paid dues, never ran a mile in my shoes, never climbed out of quick sand to drown in the pool, from the fire to the frying pan tears to tenacity holding on for dear life fighting off insanity and stay grounded and be equal ,to the people and always keep the skill level higher than the ego

While I can still throw a throw up, or hold down a get down, or pen a deadly cyanide 16 to murder clowns, drown sorrows, with verses to raise spirits I’m a dive into the fountain of youth and bath in it,, shower the scene with my thoughts and dreams, communicate the complexities of life by any means Malcom Xin, flexing with the tussles of tyranny this arts my artillery by any means necessary