1. |
CUSTODY | Prod. Con
01:28
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Little kid in the doctor's office
He can talk just like your prophets
He can talk you keep the profits
When he cries you come off it
You got so many comments
You say
I'm a high-risk kid
I'm ain't supposed to live
I ain't supposed to have the gifts
Now I'm supposed to give
My soul was supposed to be leaving
But I'm 17 still breathing
I seen better things I'm gleaming
Now I look like a fucking art thot
And my heart stops when I pass by that old block
I hope this car train the airplane, bus whatever the fuck don't stop
Like my own thoughts
I don't like my own thoughts
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2. |
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I want to go home
I wanna go back back back
I want to home
or whatever the last I had
I want to go home
I guess this is just god’s hand
This land is home yeah
I see your hand at my waist I’m looking up at your face like how do I know
What behind the patagiona
This an unexplored continuing
This land doesn’t know my hand
I’m without precedent
Knock knock, I know your home
I’m all-powerful and all grown
I’m home alone red-handed wet bandit
Skipping stone from a person to another
And I’ve just landed
I want to go home
I wanna go back back back
I want to home
or whatever the last I had
I want to go back back back
I want to go home
I guess this is just god’s hand
But its really not
3 hots and a cot
3 key and a lock
A please and stop
In need of a pause
Not peas in a pod
More daisy in asphalt
And when your feet fall
Bleeds on the block
You can tell me love or tell me off
I pirouette, I bellyflop
A silhouette, a shadow
Tied to it can’t grow
No free lunch, god I’m just such an asshole
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3. |
Interlude1 | Leo Mack
00:28
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4. |
A PRAYER | Prod. Con
01:57
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This is a prayer for the southside
I say it with my mouth wide open
cause if I close it
I’ll be left choken
On the tongue I’ve tied
by token
of my token of peace being a piece of my own tokenization
and the earth that left quaken
when grandp a died
alone in a diaper
hoping someone would pick up the phone
I point my finger at a skyward
power hoping the same
The finality of my name
my family line is adorned
with rosary beads
I hold them seeds like batteries looking for the
divine power
To stop me
cause I think latino
and only see
cockroaches, blunt smoking
and uncut weeds
I don’t know if I deserve forgiveness
but I know it's something I need
I need forgiveness
I leave my village
I weave a visage
I see I grieve
I'll be a witness
to how my voice been amplified
to a size big enough for a loudspeaker
and amphitheatre
bigger than those I stand beside
in marches and sit-ins with raised fists
in protest and action and friendship
The press conferences just double my confidence
In the midst of the crowd the apparition of family’s faces
remind me there will be ghosts of all of us
it's obvious
The local newspapers want to know
all my trauma it's
hard to be a spokesperson and a person of color
When every interview start I should talk about how my mother
abused me use the
pity
To gain sympathy
from the kind of audience historically
scared of me.
My pain a performance
My insecurities a chorus
It's honestly a little fun
The reporter smiles at me
She’s friendly and relatively young
She says we’re almost done
I thank her for everything
Says it was her pleasure
I speak surprisingly well for someone my age
I appreciate the compliment, but maybe it should be rephrased
if that's alright
I'm no genius
I just know how to talk white x2
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5. |
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6. |
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7. |
Interlude2 | Leo Mack
00:52
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8. |
Apollo 13 | Prod. ONE
00:33
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I came home like Apollo 13
I came home like Apollo 13
I returned from orbit
Crashed landed at your service
Crash-landed at your cervix
My bad habits grew and flourished
I sacrificed myself cause that's what I thought love was, Indiana Jones-style left a divet where my heart and blood was
I know that I fucked up
I picked the wrong bullet to try to jump in front of
Baby baby, please give me something I can run from
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9. |
Brujx | Prod. Leo Mack
02:01
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10. |
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I spent a good summer and stupid
Writing poems about race poverty and my ruby slippers
Never could get back home x4
[mid chorus] x3
How I'm I supposed to be scared
What does it look like I want it to look right
How am I supposed to be scared
Do I blow hot air and get mad like my stepdad
Does a real man look like a bear
Does a real man look in the mirror
I got big pants I hope I guess I fill
But that's all jokes and sex appeal
best I feel is when I feel like I could live this moment without ever had being broken
stand on up, I spill my Coke and
Hope I spit like Cole cause that pain don't hurt if I can make it spoken
How am I supposed to be scared
Should I pile in like when I was a kid
But I'm out of space I don't know where there’s room and the old anger ain't going nowhere
this soon but anything else would be so rare so new
my fears I chew
and swallow I didn't want to be Chicano cause I thought that meant I wouldn't get to feel
I didn't let myself cry for 3 years
Cause you can brake my lights, and create my fears
I didn't let myself cry for 3 years
Cause they can take my life they won't get my tears
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Artemisio Romero Santa Fe, New Mexico
Artemisio is a spoken word poet (the fancy way to say rapper), visual artist and political organizer. He is also Santa Fe's newest Youth Poet Laureate.
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