Dear Mr. Poetry Slam

CATEGORY

just different

 This is for my critics of how I live it and how I spit it, but most of all
my you don't participate in slam critics.see I don't need validation of one
large group, you can keep your button ups and nice suits cause I'd rather
spit in timbo boots, representing that tree of which some of y'all hang
ya'selves from for selling ya'selves short for a title, challenging yourself
metaphorically when you aint even challenged the purpose of your writing,
see I'm not co-signing that slams aint great, but on a real tip most of em
are fake, full of blow up dolls that blow up on stage so forgive me if I
mistake their performance for a Nicki Minaj concert, and this aint a shot at
her, cause at least she came out with that from jump, while some jump into
their costumes behind curtains, and come out saying they spittin for a
purpose, or spittin for the good, but my question is how you preaching for
change in the hood when you don't even put yo own change in the hood, see to
those females you Mr. pro black and pro love, but can you spit real to
these bloods, real to these Crips, and have em thinkin in a new
mindset, better yet, can you even go to the hood without being laughed
at..lemme answer that, negro no you can't, I'm from East Chicago, your
revolution spit without action is like a throwin up pitchforks but
rollin with vice lord factions, and all your lines are scripted so I'm a
call you Denzel cause you actin, I don't need to be called a Grand
slam champ or be a part of a team, because the images in the mirror are
closer than they appear, and a lot of y'all is out of sight and out of mind,
and literally out of yo damn mind thinkin cause you part of a squad that you
God, when really you just a church statue, and statues don't move, they stay
stationary, so how can you say you carrying the city on your back when you
never take a step outside that mutha***a, step up your train of thought and
realize real people wanna hear real spit and real , you might get off on
finger snaps but real cats get off when they can't even say the next line
cause the crowd steady going crazy, slam poetry cool, but most those cats
are fugazey, half and half's, they confused like dykes who say they don't
like men but then try to look like one, cause it's obvious they like
cause they strap one on every time they smash, so Mr. poetry slam, pucker up
and kiss my ass, I will never submit to you, cause how the hell you gone
have beefing with poetry crews, I'm black, they been trying to get me
to beef with my fellow man for the longest so the strongest can give the
hard labor for slave wages behind those cages, so a battle aint in my
fortay, It might be embedded in my DNA, but I broke that chain link a while
back, the same way I broke over chain links when Latin Kings were chasing me
back in the day, see I'm straight, don't ask me to battle another man with
syllables off my tongue, cause the only thing my tongue battles are
lips, and if I am what I eat, I'll take that over being a dysfunctional
any day of the week, cause that's what most of you slam spitters are, you
like to go hard, but unless someone stroke ya ego you stay soft, so forgive
me for this elongated rant, this was just me explaining why you do what I
do, but you can't have the same effect as me, and if you don't believe me,
just listen to the crowd