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Lyrics
you remember that first hot poem that you heard?
that just made you say damnnn, and wonder,
about that man on broadway.
that man that was always on broadway,
selling his poems, cuz he ain't got no phd, no ged
just a wife and kids at home,
wondering, when's poppa coming home,
cuz that man on broadway had to sell his poems.
why not, there's always people lined up lacking originality of their own.
but damnnn that poem was a hot one,
like a harlem summer, on the block,
wife beaters, tank tops, and the pump's on.
took it back to the happier days,
when you didn't give a fuck about waves,
just happy playing ball and spittin rhymes,
with your reebok pumps on.
you had to snap your fingers and bounce,
or grab a loved one, when your song was on.
but then the poem goes on,
and then it went, through your system,
because life's a vent. although uplifting,
it reminded you of hours spent, keeping the leaf moist,
knowing it's a sin, like gluttony through lent.
peripheral like needed money spent to combat imaginary chemical warfare,
but fuck that, i'm only thinking about my morning toll fare,
remembering that show, i saw last night, just 'cuz i was there,
reciting that poem that got you here, saying, damn that shit was blazing
copyright 2004 kristina lopez
