He doesn’t feel so good because he’s not that good.
Still hood bad when life’s not so sad.
So shady by evil’s design.
We see you. We’re not one-eyed or blind.
That enterprise, to my surpríse, is just a brood of
Bat bits – droppings from an old but list.
On the lazy sinister last days of shady;
A small jealous throw away, could’ve been sensational…but it came to devastation, gutter crew grew.
The Creator took back His ovation.
The world is coming to know the details of the situation.
Most people’s jubilation sublimated to we’re over it – Get on with your retirement and
Overly Masonic preference you think is grandeur to lead Holy to rent instead of own their own.
Always calling out on the astral phone, refusing to leave good people alone.
Socially wealthy, spiritually poor;
Morals he lacks and without Holy you can’t endure.
A once thought thriving, presently revealed tribe of Boomdiclock tick tock hacks in chakra shock without GOD to guard their backs.
They manage more anger by always diving into danger;
Becoming ever stranger, the devil their rearranger.
Negative constructs gone wrong.
They need to stop trying to mind control, enslave, and sell, lead anointed to the grave.
Get them to their prehistoric dens where they belong.
So filled with sin.
We all caught their subliminal.
There are so few of them with creative heft.
A clean Hip Hop house will be left so we can consciously begin again.
GOD’s standards win.
I’ll be writing at the restaurant while they’re out blunting;
Flaunting they’re not about it while I shout about it.
Where once stood men, remains hot boils in a pot with crabs.
With the hurt doctor on alert.
He shouldn’t scratch it or the next one he seduces with those hard blues won’t be so classic.
They all conundrum they have something to say but we have the CDs to prove the contrary.
I’m truly beautiful down to the cuticles, while his true fortune soldier within collapsed with that negative entrapment to reduce Holy to asp.
All shady roads lead to hell.
So much the branding, so much menace in there.
It’s like the devil rang the dumb dumb bell.
They clock in and out and go about ever buckling to the cerebral bouts.
GOD’s winds of change weren’t good enough to enlist him to choose right and better over mange.
The damage is set in, they’re all slain – only gaunt haunts remain.
I’m able while they’re barely shelf stable.
All that blubbering to get to an expletive.
Middle finger anyone?
Not even as original as coo-coo-ca-choo.
He used to land vaulted assaults with a steady beat, now it’s all replete.
Deconstructing Evil complete.
by Jerriè McGill
All material is subject to Copyright laws.