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Cinco dinero rolled up in a Panetella limp from zealotry
Stems poking through the leaf causing emergency surgery
The middle fat, but the end parts thin as heck
mended with zig zags transparent from spit specks
we had to be dainty with it (reason some call it a fag?)
and watch the inhalation or else a cough erupted bad..

There were….

Pregnant minutes until the looseness distended
While worried testimony lit the podium of which we all vented
And vehemence was found in the posture leaning forward
Chanting to the chronic gods, til all fears were absorbed
The frustrations, the anger, the rivalries, the mundane,
The lowness, the poverty, the tenseness, the pain
The room, the ceiling, our clothing, the floor
We felt and understood and, yes, a few SAW

We riffed to Mobb Deep
and instrumentals stolen and looped through Fruity
We spoke of politics, making the loot, and also the pursuit of the ‘booty’
A hand slap or head nod was the hand-off to teach the lesson,
Phrases like “killin’ it” or “wicked” evidence of a full fledged session
Knuckles rapped on furniture providing the interlude
A tongue could stutter a million syllables and have the group declare it ‘good’
“ay yo….ay yo……ay yo,” hedging, eternally procrastinating
Made the simplest concepts sound half-amazing

It was….

Spiritual, a deeper look inside the speaker
A verbal stance which took a chance in hopes to try and reach ‘cha
Original, but replicated across the land
Streets driven, but naturally designed to rock as contra-band
No crossovers, no seeking of mass acceptance
The only need to ride a beat and connect meaningful sentence
Hip-Hop personified in its original state
The “Ooohs” or “Boooos” your only rank