Awards
Just wrote this a few minutes ago. It's the first in a series of poems I'm gonna write this month. It's not as related to Black History as the others will be but I felt I had to write this. It's called Basketball Dreams. As I started writing it, I had a plan for it, but it sorta took a mind of it's own though lmao Be warned, it's kinda lengthy
Basketball Dreams
A mind of love and courage in your heart
Is what the evil fear, they'll try to take it apart
From your soul, corrupting you into a mental plight
From the way the system perpetuates to the side
To keep us in places where we aint meant to survive
We hungry for attention, that's why them banana clips thrive
The game is getting foul, and youngins are down to ride or die
Before they take the training wheels off, their amibition is their drive
In this dog eat dog world, it's still cannabalism in my eyes
When the strong prey up on weak, this week a man payed his tithes
To a preacher that preaches to the meek and then sleeps with the wives
And goes back to his home and say a prayer to be in the skies when he dies
The game is getting foul, it's such a pungent odor
It's a cold world and it's only getting colder
Feels like midnight in Alaska in October
Society saw in me the truth so she showed me her shoulder
An icy chill from the thrill of hotwiring the motor
And hotboxxing the whip while pretending to be the owner
Riding round, taking shots laid back, throwing up floaters
Mean mugging people, face screwed like ogres
Aint content with playing a game that mediocre
hopping out with the crowbar, call ya real estate broker
Ya house value dropped quickly than playing strip poker
Niggas came in, rolling up more dough and epic tales than Homer
The game is getting foul, maybe it's time for a sub and a change
Only if we stop playing and look to the past can we add minutes to the game
The game is getting harder and time has run out on the shot clock
Maybe that's why niggas are shooting all hours of the clock
People are fouling out and their defense is getting dumber
Especially when they getting hit with that 95 Jordan number
Like BANG! And while I was spitting this verse
7 brothers lives got worse and they lost theur place on this earth.
Basketball Dreams
A mind of love and courage in your heart
Is what the evil fear, they'll try to take it apart
From your soul, corrupting you into a mental plight
From the way the system perpetuates to the side
To keep us in places where we aint meant to survive
We hungry for attention, that's why them banana clips thrive
The game is getting foul, and youngins are down to ride or die
Before they take the training wheels off, their amibition is their drive
In this dog eat dog world, it's still cannabalism in my eyes
When the strong prey up on weak, this week a man payed his tithes
To a preacher that preaches to the meek and then sleeps with the wives
And goes back to his home and say a prayer to be in the skies when he dies
The game is getting foul, it's such a pungent odor
It's a cold world and it's only getting colder
Feels like midnight in Alaska in October
Society saw in me the truth so she showed me her shoulder
An icy chill from the thrill of hotwiring the motor
And hotboxxing the whip while pretending to be the owner
Riding round, taking shots laid back, throwing up floaters
Mean mugging people, face screwed like ogres
Aint content with playing a game that mediocre
hopping out with the crowbar, call ya real estate broker
Ya house value dropped quickly than playing strip poker
Niggas came in, rolling up more dough and epic tales than Homer
The game is getting foul, maybe it's time for a sub and a change
Only if we stop playing and look to the past can we add minutes to the game
The game is getting harder and time has run out on the shot clock
Maybe that's why niggas are shooting all hours of the clock
People are fouling out and their defense is getting dumber
Especially when they getting hit with that 95 Jordan number
Like BANG! And while I was spitting this verse
7 brothers lives got worse and they lost theur place on this earth.
