[DisturbedPoet]

Give the mic,
with this pen and pad,
I write.
Like an animal.
Like butane,
I'm flammable.

Like a auction crier,
quick from the mouth.
Born and raised NY,
Four years,
down south.
Found out,
what that struggles about.

learned how to take life,
inch by inch.
Never hesitate,
never flinch.

Never cry for help,
unless your helping,
your self.

Never feel guilt,
it makes you weak.
Confidence in your voice,
when you speak.

Keep feelings underneath,
what you want to be.
As a man.

If they know your weakness,
They can take control.
Stay true to your heart,
don't loose your soul.
This world aint easy,
this world is cold.

Knock you down,
face first in the dirt.
soul torturing,
hell is forsaken.
Until your eyes are awaking.
Mind stops baking,
the herb.

Staying in place,
side lining the rat race.
staring at the money,
refused to chase.
seems like such a waste,
This thing called life.
Daily hustle,
daily slave.

A easy life,
what we all crave.
Do what we love,
and some how get paid.

There's the go getters,
and the ones and the ones,
that aint getting shit.

Imagine trying,
and still not getting shit.

Just keep moving,
day through day.
april turned may.
so fast.
I need some more fire,
on my ass.

My life keeps passing me by.
I don't know why,
I continually get high.
And Then wonder why,
that bitch said bye.

No time for a regret.
If your out for, respect.