Its like I got one shot, just one chance
with a Microphone in my hand
lights on the stage now taking my be-boy stance
I just want to blend hip-hop, psychology, urban philosophy
bring it all together preach it like ghetto theology
So give me one mic, for just one night
I’ll battle too the top, Nigga ready I’m fight
It’s not about who stands tall,
who’s got the biggest balls
there is shit I need to say,
scribbled on mental tablets and written on walls
So all I have is this one dream, this one scheme
and by all means I will succeed even if bleed.
because from knowledge I feed, not for Ice or greed
levitate on wisdom like I smoked the finest hydro weed.
Like Arthur pulling Excalibur from the stone
Just give me mic, let me forge a throne of my own.
Author notes
Prompt:
Dreams written in toilet stall confessions.
A contest entry
- PIF PROMPT CONTEST by penman.
525 points, ended May 7, 2008, 7 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
-
Wonderful
Very well done. Best of luck in the contest.


