My Aim

As I look thru this scope this, rifle if you will I still hear that whisper (Corey shoot to kill) today could be my last meal like Christ last supper so like the word of God my floetic lyrics bypass flesh and cuts thru souls like a hot knife thru butter and as a black man I don't know what it's like to be a black woman and imma father so I can't imagine what it was like for my mother but my scope, my aim, my trigga finger is nothin like yourz. You see my heart too was once cold now I'm back on solid ground like the concrete floor, I can hear the angels in heaven now still shouting for my encore I still hear em praising God's name when the doctor cut my umbilical cord I can still see Saul on the road to Damascus being used by the Lord I can feel the ancient history of my ancestors when whips tore thru their ligaments I still see the devil speaking blasphemy to me acting so belligerent, so take a long look at me this here is black history because honestly you couldn't walk thru my shoes if I let you in my memory