Certain Generations

When communication ceases

I stay of out of the street

cu’z your kid’s are annoying

the spit rhymes like poison

a regurgitated scheme

and their fire turns into a faint gleam

of light…

and I stand there in fright

of certain generations

cuz’ the people who should same them

stand in the limelight…

don’t do anything right

raise their hands

and stomp their feet at night

acting like God will send them a flight

to the Caribbean to run away

cu’z they don’t want to stay

raise children

pay for a sin

now created into the most beautiful skin

they should hold


caress until they rest their head

until nightmares

turn into dreams.


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