Hello everybody. This is Steven Lynn Nicholson again, over here in Jackson, Michigan, doing an old poem/verse. First song I did back when I was, like 16 years old, just pulling something out of the out of the hat, something from a long time ago. It’s nostalgia purposes. We’re gonna call it “Original Rap.” It goes like this.
Well, when I be ripping it,
My style is uncanny, the way I’m flipping it.
Certain cats hear me spit,
Just not quite getting it
And be quick to hit the back skit.
Some say it’s a burden, damn it,
The way I’m letting lyrics loose
My producer be panicked.
Just calm down.
Smoke down.
Let me establish my stylistic mixture of spitting,
Just like when I was flipping pounds.
And I’m not known now,
but now hear this
And witness these feelings of killing
And willing to live
And seeing more families rocked
And bodies dropped
And strikeouts from Curt chilling,
And he’s only killing cats down from the mound,
But once a week,
And our ghetto town is like a circus of clowns,
Because these bullets knock us down on the ground
Seven days a week.
While our peeps be asleep
Cats creep tactically with heat
While mentally playing this Barnum and Bailey,
Chilling down in Hades,
Patiently waiting for lives to be taken.
If you don’t know what I’m saying,
Then to be frank, then, I’m talking about Satan,
Because if he metaphysically messes up with the ways of society,
But God know my heart and private thoughts.
So, dying early isn’t a concern to me.
And that’s it. And that song just kind of reflects that even when I was living a crazy life back in the days, I still always had, you know, a higher power, the creator of heaven and Earth on my mind, and it kind of just helped keep me from going too far out there, you know, in that crazy street life. So, I’m just thankful to God for that, though. So.
These commentaries are recorded by Prison Radio.
