They Say Pu$$y And Paper Is Poetry

June 16, 1971, Mama Gave Birth To A Hell Rasing Heavenly Son.

Today Is Built On Tragedies, Which No One Wants To Face, Nightmares To Humanities And Morally Disgraced. Tonight Is Filled With Rage, Violence In The Air, Children Bred With Ruthlessness Because No One At Home Cares.

Elevation Of Today's Generation, If I Can Make Them Listen. Prisons Ain't What We Need, No Longer Stuck In Greed.

Even A Genius Has His Questions.

You Either Ride With Us, Or Collide With Us.