Hip Hop

Let's pretend that Hip Hop's a perfect lifestyle,
that the music always represents what's right.
But let's shed some light,
reveal everyday hip hop lies.
Materialistic, degrading lyrics leading our Rick Ross lives.
The P. Diddy's and Suge Knight's of the industry,
livin off other's success, livin off the elite.
Got Soulja Boy's reppin money and hoes,
and real boys reppin life, livin the streets.
These new style generations needa teach,
not brag about the money they record label leach.
Needa stop trippin over beats and try to understand the lyrics,
live a better life & look for inner perfection through your mirrors.
Look to yourself and change this world one song at a time,
show everyone what we all struggle with through every rhyme.
So pick up a pen and tell us about your life.
There's no rhyming necessary,
just put it on paper, and let the writing get teary.

Amen

Everyday the same,
he can't think straight or sane.
Waitin for an epiphany, makin that step to rap from poetry.
He's stuck, don't know what the fuck he doin,
to save her, keepin his pen to the paper.
FOr this rap game, what can he write for change.
Write about real life like in the 90s,
or talk about money he don't have, like these dumb kids.
Should he spit fast like Busta or Twista,
or talk slow and call himself a rapper, like Lil Wayne.
It's buggin him badly,
every lil apostrophe.
Unable to extend his vocabulary,
can't end with punctuation, can't be patient.
He just lets his writing flow word by word,
true meaning fluttering like a bird.
With every letter given a different emphasis,
so much meaning, can't empty this,
freestyle cuz his life's so vile.
Sending a letter to the mainstream.
cuz he's the mailman of mayhem,
got them begging to God, chantin Amen.