R.I.P

Verse 1: (Damon)

Yo, kept a cold shoulder, the heatwaves a broken toaster,

Our food doesn’t cook well, it froze over, mama in the street,

She loved my bros, homies, me, KK, C, and all of them were

My closet brothers, we just knew each other, I can spit fluid,

Every time, the news is covered, my gramps dead,

Everyone smiling, would do they that, if my body is piled with,

All the bodies, incinerator, full blown disintegration,

Willis in the ventilations, caught him by his back, a gat

Blasted in his mental chamber, I feel like ripped up paper,

Sick and dangerous, smoking angel dust, pops is the one,

That is teaching me how to leave the streets, hate and lust,

Hated them, life was bucket of cables, what, hazardous,

Maybe some-times, I can handle it, lost homies, shot died,

Just from smoking cannabis, spit clever lines, rip every time,

I get on the pen, send to the depths, to see all your friends,

I don’t need no fall angels to “protect” me, I want my revenge,

They were trying to get me, cracked their skulls, with Michael’s is

Mentioned, they run to the deep, a mobb of descending, 6-9,

A snitch phone’s will not live in centuries, if he was in my block,

His chest would be spreading, bullets, one in the head,

The rest in the leg, this deadlier Tech, I’m ready to wreck,

Anybody who steps to me, this rap giant will end them 6 feet deep.

 

Verse 2: (Damon)

Gramps in hospice, stomach infection, rotting slow,

Doctors said he’s leaving soon, but he’s still holding on,

Told me stories ’bout the old days, when the streets had soul,

Now it’s just ghosts whispering where the bullets took their toll.

Lost KK last summer, corner store ambush, wrong place,

Wrong time, wrong face, wrong race? Nah, just wrong city,

This concrete jungle eats its young, ain’t that a pity?

C got caught slippin’, vengeance mission turned him cold,

Left his daughter fatherless, another story never told.

The air thick with absence, heavy like lead in my chest,

Every block a memorial, puttin’ loyalty to the test.

Pops preachin’ peace while my fists clench ’neath the sleeves,

Seein’ red every time a siren wails and grieves.

This anger’s gasoline, waitin’ for a spark to ignite,

Dream of quiet nights shattered by another gunfight.

They took my brothers, left me standin’ in the bloody rain,

Gramps fadin’ slow, amplifyin’ all this twisted pain.

Is survival worth the cost when everybody you love is gone?

Just echoes in these barren streets I’m walkin’ on.

The hunger’s different now – not for food, but for the truth,

Why the innocent get buried while the wicked stay aloof?

My pen’s the scalpel, dissectin’ this disease they call the hood,

Spillin’ ink like vital fluids, wishin’ somehow that I could

Reverse the reaper’s visit, bring ’em back from the abyss,

Instead, I spit these syllables, a melancholic twist

On livin’ while surrounded by the ever-present grave,

Tryna find the strength my crumblin’ grandpa’s tryna save.

This mic’s my weapon, my confession, my last fragile thread,

Rappin’ ’bout the lost before I end up joinin’ ’em, dead.

 

Verse 3: (Kalligraphy)

This is for the faces we no longer have an image of

Only thing left is their handprints on caves above

My voice is Michelangelo personified

Rest in peace D’angelo, the good ones fly high

Like Capital Steez who jumped and became an angel

For those left in disasters like what Cain did to Abel

Just know our anatomy is a gift and not a fable

“TIL eternity” is my favourite phrase to say

To Shalhevet, Clementi, Angie, Jahvai

Lives taken too soon, but to a better place

Some afraid of what happens at the end of our days

It’s what you make it, either your with or abandoned faith

I know the universe has its ways, but I choose my own fate

The Ghost of Christopher Wallace and Tupac Shakur

Asata, Haile Selassie, Left Eye, Georges de la Tour

All of them never forgotten, can you feel the allure?

The music got me saved even before my conception

Before I had direction, I was lost in the mentions

Looking for the validation that can uplift my complexion

But as I grew older and wisdom sits in my palms

My arms raise the psalms to heal all the infections

And that’s the blessin’, the sharpness of my thorns

The way I was formed before the cosmos were born

They say you die twice, I call it three these days

You die, name is spoke last, the final remembrance of your face

Luckily enough when we enter heavens gates

And shake hands with Prodigy and Proof that day

I can say we’ll never be left in the dust, that’s on my grave