poem cont'd.

harmony, like a song, right? / oh shit i'm losing my flow / 'least it was a fun night / aight, pick back up and march to the beat / march to the beat as you march in the streets / march in the streets til you collapse from the heat / then fire at the Heat, keep marching in the streets / pick up that sheet / bite some tabs / like they're your morning pills / wait 30 minutes for the come-up and loopty chills and thrills / the only thing that rhyme with those is "kills," but i'd rather be chill / or maybe spills / when your life spins beneath you like the training wheels of the trike you fell off / and you can't right the thing because it's crushing your guts soft / i just want to tell you about myself, tell you the truth / but that's the paradox of hip hop / it's a coded language that holds the truth aloof / askance, and you can see it at a glance / maybe if you really look / but that aint no promise to a dream, no bell hooks / i'd never be a writer of a famous etiquette book / even if that book were my ticket to fame / who am i kidding, i'd sell out, i have no shame