Rap Actor

If every time I recite a poem it sounds the same as all of my last ones...

I wonder if that would help me somehow move up faster.

If every time I get onstage I become a famous actor!

Seemingly stuck on rehashing made up memories of a pumped past with lies of guns blasting and fast cash,

Will that speak to my talent?

And the truth is, yeah, I hustled to get by, but who hasn't?

And if I constantly make references to lots of sex with no passion,

Will your impression of me be everlasting?

Or would you be shocked and unimpressed by my actions?

The answer comes in forms of disgust because we hold our poets to higher standards than we hold our rappers.

Dear Mr. rap actor,

Your skills at writing music are severely lacking.

And I find it extremely disheartening that you keep writing tracks

And not only that but...

You're making albums.

And country wide pandemonium is the outcome because I cannot seem to convince these young kings and queens that you rap like you live a gangster life

But, that you really haven't.

That you wouldn't know the front of a gun if you were holding it backwards.

That you pen these lyrics, promoting beef in our streets from the safety of your Beverly Hills palace.

That your kids

And my kids

Will never face the same challenges,

Never be in the same classes.

That you took away from the hood more than you ever gave back to it...

So what gives you and your pen the right to preach funerals?

To ink lines that are used but can never be useful?

What exactly do you do besides creatively lie for a living?

And you'll say that I hate on what you have,

That deep down inside I envy it,

But it can never be that simple when somebody's life depends on this truth

And your lies are contradicting it.