I say two words, I’m talking about the street kids, the hungry homeless, I say two words..street vendors, them who have to run out every time the council rolls up.. it’s two words,
State house, they gat the symbol for national unity, same space with pure impunity, government hard on street cats, they gat us on fences, pick one, you gat a family that needs to eat, flip your mind to she’s in a hospital about to deliver, I say three words, Kenyan health care, back to two words, street hustlers, on walls face front. Government officials, two words, big cars, back left, in Africa. Two words their stomachs be full. Mos def and west I gatta speak from the east of the horn..two words, Africa, Kenya. I should have used my rhymes right, my mind in a mental fight like, two words, national history, or a Pickett fence life like three words, elections don’t matter..metaphors wasted on this here chapter..I’ll let my mind creep into the next sequence, life it self, knowledge it self is life. two words Lost Sun. Two words, soul search.. three words, scrolls, written, pen gospel. Moses staff, white piece of paper, not knowing what’s its destiny is, miracles that might get spilt. The innocence of that page, pure no rage, till Nairobi the scene crept in, two words, Stephen King, one word CUT, no sequel, thoughts roam free, the black guy doesn’t die in my movies. Fishburne, I be Morpheus, killing you with two final words, Follow me.
