On my grave it will say Here Lies a Poet
Provokin thought focusin philosophy
On those boston streets and that dirty water harbor
rhymes lethally sharp carvin my own eulogy
wut I used to be in my past life was a cat fightin for my type of ecstacy
and I might be an existentialist if thats
wut permits the establishment of my own destiny
and the rest of me is brazenly present in the present addin the elements
for the methods to make the bread leven and my eyes redden and my cries lessen fight and question
but the efforts simply extend wit an objective to end by attemptin to rest wit an adequate breath in
but its stabbin my flesh, the fact that I'm beyond a man at his best
wit no respect from the world just because they know I was blessed
cuz I was selected by the hip-hop disciple and I aint like you mothafuckas
Here lies a poet that nobody listened to
Lived his life counting down every minute through
No one acknowledged his words or his thoughts because
Nobody loved him...