Pump-a-Boooom! Pump-a-Boooom! What a plague to describe!
That rumble is distant yet headed this way.
There’s no denying that message is Force
And it’s done to disrupt my wellbeing, of course.
It’s on me to unravel this sick nigger play
And it baffles me so that we’re of the same tribe.

That Boooom becomes rattle, sustained to the max
As it draws ever closer, disturbing my space.
It’s riveting shock waves rip right through my heart.
You have mouths full of venom. I DO NOT take part
In the trashing of woman and verbal disgrace.
Pull your pants up, sound weapon; it’s time to relax.

When war comes to me, I don’t see it as race.
We are all sorely human, obsessed with our ways
Of extruding our phlegm from our psychotic clouds.
If you want your dick sucked, then go find the right crowds.
I’ve no need for your nodules of nebulous haze.
Get your pimping assed homies to cum in your face.

I don’t care who you’re talking to, boy. It ain’t me!
Keep your Noise to yourself and don’t shove me around.
I’ve a hair up my own; I don’t need yours as well.
There’s a place for your talent: With Poets In Hell.
I would hang you myself or else keep you well bound.
Am I proud we are brothers? I’d rather be Free.