The MC

He be that cat that spits the gift
In modern day urban hieroglyphics
With swift lyrical riffs that uplift ghetto spirits
Peeling graffiti off the bricks with a ‘yes-yes y’all’
So rival crews up the block can hear it
They fear it
He blasts with drastic linguistic gymnastics
As his DJ backspins break beat classics
Chasin’ his dope with highs and bass

Creatin’ a symphony for the streets to taste

Makin’ concrete sweat culture

from a multi colored face  

He be the MC

And his skills is spastic!

Blendin’ African rhythm and Taino blues

Wall Street neglect and ghetto news

Could’ve found a ‘vic’ cause baby needs shoes

Clutchin’ the M-I-C  is what he chose as a tool

Chose X-game poetry to lace dope beats

Chose to rest the gat and be the voice of the streets
His Soul is as scuffed as his broccoli Timbs’

Still he's in it to win
Long as his DJ spins

Master of ceremonies with many stories
That fall into various categories
Speaking of victories and tragedies
That mirror the life of many


Changin’ the world while movin the crowd
Paintin’ the streets proud
By Shoutin out loud

Next time you see that kid

Getting’ blounted in the cut
While the DJ is gettin’ warm

Yeah…….. That be the MC

© 2010 Keith Horton

Painting by Justin Bua