WORK ETHIC LIFE BALANCE
(signifyin' the rappers)
Shreds to that, man-texter sex-baby : there simply
is none. No balance. No ethic, and we are all simply
dead and vouchsafed for reason beyond rhyme.
Once before it all happened this way : Adam begat
whatever fucked Eve begat whoever killed Abel. And
Cain who got away, he did what he'd done and left it
at that. 'Am I my brother's keeper?' the earliest rap.
'It's good to be alive', was that ever heard around
the Adam and Eve's kitchen? I wonder.
-
'I'm cryyyin' over you. I'm cryyyin' over you.
I'm a female, you're just a fairytale...'
-
'Ice Cube' (I'm samplin mofo) 'will swarm
on any motherfucker in a blue uniform
a young nigger on the warpath
and when I finish
it's going to be a bloodbath
of cops, dying in L.A.'
-
Tell me what have you left me,
what have I got?
-
Now the newest sharpshooter's dying on crack,
shooting ponies from a hat, learning to sight a distance
through the barrel of an unintended sidearm. 'I brought
it along, under my seat, and no one ever knew I put
in my belt before I got out.' Next to him, his jiggly
ho' wears a red, plastic dress not even long enough
to cover her best. Makes me want to say 'hey, you
dropped something', just to watch her bend over.
-
Here's the chin, and shreds to that, man-texter,
sex-shredder bastard in a Mad Hatter hat.
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