Imagination Gabe, paper planes and a fleece vest.

Rockin’ knock off clothes clean with a steam press-

Grandma Josephine , yeah, she coulda been a seamstress-

Grandpa, soul gold , shoemaker never seemed stressed.

Breathe breaths of Gary Mill sweetness, soot caked home

close to Aetna. Miller beach is—

A place memories of my childhood reaches

A child’s hood teaches more than a childhood’s teaching.

If your fire don’t work, better prepare for grim reapin’.

Those aren’t fireworks but AKs and gats speaking-

Crackheads run for base sold by cons in no sequence.

While Glorified pimps sold hoes in old sequins,

Ghetto child sees sex and the profit it brings in.

Done behind stores and empty lots come evening,

while mental patients beg for change. There’s a paradox, even

I beg for mental patience to change how I see them.


HELP ME! Help me, OD.
As we proceed
to get to- get to know me
Then we gon’ see
All these MC’s
o.d. on me- o.d. on me. [overdose x2]
My hood tendency tends to see bars and beatens.

My good tendency tends to speak bars in beats. When

this soul goes, you think Peter ought to greet ’em?

People ought to offer no weak bars to beat em.

I’m hot Summer, fall back to winter off season-

Spring yourself forward, still too short to see ’em.


For the ghetto I got God to stop moms from grievin-

Jesus, these thugs aren’t Gs just weak men creepin’-

Huffin & puffin sacks. Bad wolf oughta be them-

nervous piglets tuggin cigarettes, Cop squealin’.

What measures a man? Arrest records, triple beamin?

I don’t think so, I don’t need blow to breathe in.

Childhood memories tend to be bout some teasin’.

Cousins called me Dumbo the feeling was displeasing

Now I’m coming in for landings & they cant wait to see ’em.

Sit back, spit raps, even slip stacks to mom in secret.

Light a candle on church mantle, got good manners to deal wit.

God bless the dead, that’s where pride for my degree went-

Don’t need Louis , Gucci, Prada. Nah, to be with

the fam and friends, to me, reminisce on memories

gives a ride or die feeling that a child hood believes in.

Imagination Gabe, loses focus yet he breeze tests-

Got As for days like he’s from Oakland, now he sees it.


One thought on “ChildHood

  1. My man came hard with this one. He methodically used metaphor and wordplay to weave a garmet of truth.

    I call him label maker. The label doesn’t make him, he makes the label.


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