~Legacy~ shaking off the cobwebs of motherfucking nonsense grind em up like potheads add a dash of slice and dice as gassed up half assed has beens act tough with madness waving gats of wackness at the number one motherfucking samurai and it's about goddamm time he unleashes what's inside so when they got him in their sights his blade pierces right through their eyes fierce and fearless homicide should have stayed clear of this fight like a deer in bright headlights dead before they could ever even realize how many folks can flow just like this with an astounding rip of the mic and not be clowning when they write resounding with insight when they spit and not recite cultural narratives like preguided imperatives declaring they're inherited errands of what's been errant when forbearance could help them care for which their vision stares right through while preparing to get buried in shit in a prearranged marriage to nonsense my patience well passed the state of wearing thin enraged with a hatred it's been barely bearing and it flares up with flames burning furious daring to set the stage ablaze and if you're curious no, there's no escaping it chickens cling to riches like they're handling their business but bitches will be bitches itching for another gimmick so I've tied the loose ends tightly to my new pen that's much more gruesome with a frightening truth when I'm filling up a page made of entire landscapes the earth's dirt crimson colored with my fits of rage making the green grass grow with a mean fast flow no chance for backlash with every stab hack and slash I'm resolved to detach from involving with trash like moths drift up into the flame haters all flock to show up playing a suicide game that's just the way that shit's going to stay fact is contemporary tactics of acting have scary implications spastic masses need to become temporary traffic not merrily inundated but relax kids it's metaphorical expression maybe not in past tenths but now my business has shifted to teaching people lessons don't get shit twisted I can still flip the script real freakishly quick no need for forgery when revoking birth certificates but now my life's in a stage which I fill blank pages to escape insane ticks my brain's maintained when I'm back in the states and I'm a dad to a great kid making art is like catharsis for a heart that's grown too dark so though I go hard when I embark to try and lift my soul up with my smarts it's a gift and it's a curse to spit with conviction in each verse knowing these aren't simply words but also indicative of a sickness sinking way into my skin sifting through my hurt nitpicking gritty and berserk like if I stay busy this will work for sure but there simply isn't really any cure this writing shit is just like a band-aid type of bandage on a hole straight through my chest so I keep going trying my best to stop the bleeding while the clock keeps reading that I'm running out of time thinking maybe if I never stop writing I'll have more hope to stay alive but my nihilism keeps whining that if death happens anyway then why bother even trying sometimes it's myself that needs some reminding that there's more to life than this and since I'm a father who gives a shit I'll keep vying the sons and daughters of this modern time to guard their hearts and arm their minds and hopefully grow more wise because whenever I eventually meet my end and do die I don't want to leave my little dude behind in a world this screwed up by the likes of a bunch of fools dooming humankind. ~Justin Farrow