I have resurrected.....love to all the brothers that have carried the cross here in the temple.
They ask what prison I been in, what I been livin in/
I been on frontlines, pistol grippin for my dominion/
politickin wit this Palestinian, gettin his opinions/
inside of City Market buyin Swishers from a Indian/
ponderin over Levi and Simeon, Nazis and Davidians/
trekking to whatever I may cross along this meridian/
watchin Benny Hinn, considerin his Armenian lineage/
studyin Abyssinians, on the abysmal edge of obsidian/
within Lucifer's reach, I try to teach with each speech/
but it's hard to reach Greeks so I speak to the meek/
the weak take a seat, intrigued by my sleek mystique/
they eat every gem I speak, disguised as concrete meat/
the seeds that I excrete blossom into colossal flora/
meant for the explorers armed wit rockets and Torahs/
angelic auras, lyrical skills able to kill Gomorrahs/
enough piff to fill fedoras, hollows to fill a Taurus/
more squares than Phillip Morris, where killas flourish/
over hills and forests up to the hidden villes of Moorish/
where Moors move their quills in chorus to the cadence/
of black ravens singin a sad song of long gone havens/
for the black slaves in strong bonds of miseducation/
the child makin thongs in Hong Kong for next to nathan/
every Moors' song's long, but is organized and filed/
then compiled for awhile inside my cerebral profile/
thru my larynx turnstile to a door marked "Worthwhile"/
the files emit into spit mixed wit styles so versatile/
verse after verse is dispersed by these sacred means/
all to beguile a child and show him how to chase his dreams...
Comments/criticisms are more than welcome....
Image is everything except the truth.