My Words

(What I Slam For, Part One)

Since this is not a slam,
and I'm allowed some props
I decided to start my debut album off
with the sound of some rounds of gunshots
You know why?
BECAUSE I'M ABOUT TO BLOW YOUR ASSES AWAY!!
Ignorance and negativity
I try to hold them bastards at bay
"But Droopy ain't got nothing but a bunch of slam poems
bragging about how bad he is, anyway.."
Yeah, that's what many SAY...

...But what if my words sprayed sublime rays of light
On these dark days and times
Where niggas want reparations for slavery
While still embracing enslaved states of mind?
Would THAT change your minds?

MY WORDS.
What if they spoke of an urban Greystoke
Where the Tarzans rocked dope vines, chains and ropes
And dropped dope lines when they approached
Those dames known as Jane Does?

MY WORDS.
What if they let ladies know that when it came to clothes
Personally, I don't care if they be going to Liz Claiborne
or Save-On
Because it's not the brand name that's in your drawz
But rather that thing that's in your heart
That be attracting, turning on, and captivating this Ca-jawn?

MY WORDS.
What if them varmints were really informants
Of the fact that all it takes to REALLY be "revolutionary"
Is just having the balls to be yourself in a world full of PCs:
PERFORMERS and CONFORMISTS?

MY WORDS.
What if them vowels and consonants
With which I be constantly popping shit
Were actually unidentified fly-assed objects
Designed to check the lack of progress
Of a pathetic President Shady Supreme Court
And corrupt-ass Congress?

MY WORDS.
What if them handpicked bandits
With which I be rampantly rambling
With abstract abandon In all of their random madness
Managed to hit with so much accuracy
That they actually came damn near close to challenging
Sammy Sosa's BATTING AVERAGE?

MY WORDS.
What if they started to expose
Some of these charlatans posing as poets
High on drama but low on importance
Kind of like that talk show starring Maury Povich?

MY WORDS.
What if their sentence structure
Tended to fuck with the Mental corruption
Of sisters and brothers
To bitches and hustlers
In a Last Stand resembling General Custer's?

MY FOLKS,
What if the reason why I flow
Is not behind no shining or dough
But it's just that I'm trying to let go
Of a mind that's full
Of designs that's explosive
And I just can't seem to find enough dough
To buy my own missile silo?

MY LORD,
What if I was actually that black angel who just decided to fly LOW?
As a matter of fact
What if everything that I just spat
Was not a damned slam poem
But was ACTUAL FACT?

Imagine THAT
Because
THAT'S
MY
WORD.