My Old Home
[Intro]So yeah, basicallyA lot of people ask me how life was thenSo here it is...[Verse 1]My old home smelled of good birthBoiled red beans, kernel iol and hand me down poetryIt's brick white-washed walls widowed by first paintThe tin roof top humming songs of promise while time isLocked into demonic rythem with the leavesThe trees had to winHugging them, loving them a torturous loveBuggin' whenIt was over and doneThe round cemented pot kept the rain drops coolNeighbors and dwellers spatter in the poolKids playin football with his hand and sockWe had what we got, and it wasn't a lotNo one knew they were poorWe were all innocent to greeze judgementThe country was combusting with life like a long hibrinating volcanoWith a long tale of success like J-LoFarmers, fishers, fighters, even fools had a place in productionThe costal line was the place of seductionThe coral reef make you daze in reflectionThe women walked with grace and perfectionAnd we just knew we were worriors tooNothing morbid, its trueWe were gloriousBOOM!Then one day it cameSpoiled up a ray like rainLike oil in a flame, it painedThe heart attack suddenOdder than elevenHarder than a punch in the wombHarder than the lunch you consumeFor us, it had a cancerous fume, more lustMen who made killing hoggies,Selling prout fully like healthy livestockIt made tides rock with a dilegent mockConfused are the people, infused in the evilProfessed to eject like Jews in the sequel, to winIt came in the morning, with a warning and withoutThe hurting was a burden, only certain was doubtA mythical tale, no soul knows wellLiberty went to hell, freedom called for shellsFierce was the blow, keep your ears to the showIt appears Orwell was right in '84Had big brother kill Mother in her storeWith all of us watching, we didn't lover her anymorePeep my poem, Mother was my old homeGood winners looted -in my old homeReligion is burned down -in my old homeKindness is shackled -in my old homeJustice has been raped -in my old homeMurderers hold post -in my old homeThe land, bombers, ghosts -in my old homeWe got pistols with eyes, corruption and liesTrusting snakes, and death without breaksSuspicious new borns live in our hornUsed to the pain, rack bodies not grainChopped limbs not treesSpend lives not wealthSeek vengance not truth, the carziest youthHoist pain not plans, nigga' fuck your parentsBandits will beat us down -in my old homeRumors are law now -in my old homeSedatives of faith -in my old homeRapists are praised -in my old homeDemonds dressed well -in my old homeInfants are nailed -in my old homeSpirits are jailed -in my old homeGrudges grow tails -in my old homeHigh roads of sea in electric haidenOutward labor beneath stubborn faithOur farms produce guilty grub andOur kids depend on shifty luck, seeOur muse is life for death is old, soDon't blame me for truth I told, sayGood winners looted -in my old homeReligion is burned down -in my old homeKindness is shackled -in my old homeJustice has been raped -in my old homeMurderers hold post -in my old homeThe land, bombers, ghosts -in my old home