6. feel it

hardest worker
in the game and
i keep this real.
never catch me
talking about a
whip or a chain
or a mansion i
couldn’t afford.
boring shit, i want
you all adoring this,
but how will you all
gravitate towards it
if all the words that
i write are pointless?

would you enjoy this?

what if i went ahead
and talked about the
poverty i never faced?
act like i just had some
wild come-up when all
i ever did was grind and
write in my basement?
scrap that, replace this,
try not to sneak diss, and
add in a throwaway line
about being homeless,
when i really had nothing
but a life full of privilege.

that sounds genuine, doesn’t it?

fuck it, maybe
i’ll talk about
the jail time i
never did, to
make myself
seem harder
than the rest.
or maybe i’ll
really get put
in a jail cell,
so everyone
will rally and
try to free me,
the poetry will
blow up, like
the artists that
put a show on.
beating women
and pedo shit,
but still we try
defending it,
enabling it and
celebrating it.

we give them hits.

you won’t catch me
writing about a thing
that i can’t vouch for.
i’ll make you feel this
just like i did when i
was going through it.
all the highest highs
and the lowest lows,
you’re all gonna know
the whole of every go
and every challenge,
trial and tribulation,
risk and temptation,
joy and sensation.
of all these words
that i type out here,
you’ll never question
if they were ever real.

because you’ll feel it.