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Afternoon Pick-Me-Up Poetry at Café Swizz

August 16, 2007


Grab a hold of something steady. K, ready? After the jump, Swizz pulls out his beach chair for a round with Chris Martin of Coldplay.





Trying hard to speak and

Fighting with my weak hand

Driven to distraction

So part of the plan

When something is broken

And you try to fix it

Trying to repair it

Any way you can


The time was the late 80’s

Every block had a stray dog with rabies

Feens threw away their crack babies

Arguing with my brother

To see who pick the mouse up

Walk by open up the oven door to heat the house up

Everyday, police would swarm

Coming home from school

Your brains on your uniform

I wish I could fly away like a unicorn

I’m from the ghetto

And everyday a human born

So who cares if I’m stretched out on the scene

Surrounded by homicide forensic team

Yellow tape… (mmm)

Haters glad that I’m dead

Pedestrians walking by

And they just shaking their heads saying…

Trying hard to speak and

Fighting with my weak hand

Driven to distraction

So part of the plan

When something is broken

And you try to fix it

Trying to repair it

Any way you can


What’s hot, what’s not

What should, what shouldn’t be

Come on ya…

Who to say what couldn’t be

Look at me…

I’m nicest not the ices

Sometimes I wake up and ask God

Who life this is

I look at these eyes

I’m only in this body

If you only could understand

The vision that I carry

White actors will be like

Puff Daddy when he interned

Men play with fire

Men get burned

To talk about this

The only thing I earned

I can rap talking about killing you like this

Or putting a whole in your head the size of that

But that would be cheating myself

And I can’t do that… (Man)

Trying hard to speak and

Fighting with my weak hand

Driven to distraction

So part of the plan

When something is broken

And you try to fix it

Trying to repair it

Any way you can


Man…

It all ends up on a back street

In abandoned buildings

Where the crack heads meet

All you hear is (coughs & sniffing)

And lighters flicking

Busy smoking

Baby dead

Rat poison in the kitchen

They so high

Walking by thinking she sleep

Don’t even put her in the crib

Just cover her with a sheet

This is me in the building

17 with the bundles

and a gun up on me

And I shoot any n---- run up on me

And for 2 years my momma looking for me

Crying running up on other kids

Thinking it’s me

By now I aint got no heart

N---- I’m a gang member

Suited up and ready to start

Trying hard to speak and

Fighting with my weak hand

Driven to distraction

So part of the plan

When something is broken

And you try to fix it

Trying to repair it

Any way you can

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Afternoon Pick-Me-Up Poetry at Café Swizz