Hope You Grind

I have always spoken for the martyrs—the ones who left the buildings.

We hustled together, but now we’re divided.

Our hood bombed high, dawg. Well... used to. Once.

The year was 1998.Peep Peep...Just—fuck my life.

The HOOD?A rotten corpse, mind me. Crime breathes through everything here.

And of everyone...I’m the only one left.

BITCH! Why am I crying? I’m a Hard Boi, you know?

My father used to dress me as Mr. T. Chills, huh? Just... chills.

Still—Luther: DEAD. Damien: DEAD. Darnell: DEAD.

Worst of all—Dr. Rock. The Annihilist Baker...maybe dead too.

I’m the villain in a tale you never tried to read. Wrote my pain in the dark where the silence bleeds. You see rage—I see roots. You see crime—I see creed. Call me monster—I’m just what your world made me be.

Bars, HOMMS, bars. That’s how it was. He was like that—in the beginning.

But then, what The Baker baked: the rhyme—

DUCKY BEGGS.DUCKY SNACKS.IT SEES FROM THE POOL,CHOKES MY LEGS(Dawg, how can it choke your leg!!)ASK FOR THE SUSPENSE,MENDS FOR SURPRESS.I AM GONNA BE THE MEAL.JEEZZZZZZ.........

See, it ended like this.

The MC—Me. The Lead. Pete Homage.

With HIM...and the DUCKIES.