A Millie

Tell me who really cares,

So much stuff in the world,

People out here losing jobs,

We all live in fear,

Try to wipe away the tears of the past few years,

Worlds changed so much,

The president is black, opps!

I mean mixed,

Bi-racial,

Whatever, who the hell cares,

Black poet black rapper don't let any body trap you.

Tell you that you just rhyming words,

That there's no art to it,

But they still try to cop it,

These words come from the heart,

They come from the part of my mind, spirit and soul

That can't talk,

I might write a little bit about some real silly stuff,

Then turn around and write about how I've had enough of this

Cold, cold world, how I fear that I'm losing my baby girl,

Maybe it's to personal to you,

But trust, I don't give it all away,

You couldn't pick me out a small crowd on a clear and sunny day,

That's why I could care less about a million until I get it,

And if I ever do will it even mean much.

I'm real,

And my pen sick,

And my mind quick,

But I keep it real with myself because I don't need much of a team,

Just God, me and my Dream!