Best Snitching Poems
People love to over dramatize everything but it's not that deep
Acting like they're big time gangsters, but they're not that street
Running their mouths but they were the ones who lost the beef
It's best for them to stay quiet, but they think they've got to speak
I'm tired of the fake gangsta image
I don't know how to take the gimmick
Because you've never had a fight never mind held a weapon
I've been to war and back and hurt myself from depression
I put my battles out there because I've got the scars to prove it
You talk about buying guns, but you can't buy the heart to use it
Acting tough on social media, but no one can find you
Because in person you only act tough with 10 guys behind you
I'm trying to help you see clearly, but your own stupidity must blind you
I don't hear you
You don't mean what you say, why would I fear you?
I've battled my own demons and depression and came out as the winner
You talk like you're hard to try and make yourself seem bigger
Here, let me help you out and make your life a little easier
Just so you know, the police have social media
They can see your posts, so stop with the fake image and posting fake guns
Snitching in yourself, just shows you're a fake one
Never claimed to be a gangsta because I'm not
But I fought depression without a loss
So I've earned my name
Learn the game
When it's your turn to change
You have to take it
Never been the type to dress up who I am, I'd rather let them see me naked
I'm tired of all these fake gangstas who have never been on the street
You think you're Scarface, but we all can see through you, and it's really not that deep
Pain as a Hobby Parts I-IX
Written by Tavarus M. Moreland
Copyright 2010. All rights reserved
Sorry Yulli, it was little unfair to suggest the title
You’re only 23 but I promise to leave room
Heck by that time, I was on my 4th heartbreak
Walking on one of the girl of my dreams fulfilling
Other guys dreams!
I can do this in my sleep
Pain as a hobby
I don’t even feel it no more
My tear ducts have ran out of their supply
Instead it drips on my heart
And leaks through my finger tips
Too much water the ink smudges against the pad
When my first major commitment
Accuses me of physical abuse but she forgot
She was the one hitting me in the face in a car while
We are driving on an expressway going sixty miles per hour
I’m not snitching but I would have needed stitches if I didn’t block
the blows, or worse we could be dead.
What time is it?
Set your alarm
To Tavarus’oclock
I own your time now
Because I’m about to go off
O, mama how we forget
O, now I’m the vindictive liar
Because I wrote a book exposing the truth
Truth, amazing how people run from it.
Somehow they remember themselves being completely innocent.
Anything you attempt to use against me I can just turn it around
Call it alchemy but words are my metal
I can turn and bend them with my mind or use them however I feel
But, “Tavarus aren’t you a Christian”
Sorry again, it’s not as easy as you want it to be.
But Tavarus is Tavarus and Christ is Christ and
There is a big difference in between
Why don’t you give it a try since you have an opinion
Instead of trying to criticize
So before you think I have some screws loose
Just imagine yourself going through what I went through
I’m a pain expert, I can teach you want not to do
My word processor can’t handle all my colloquial but it really can’t keep up with
My soul and my mind and my heart.
But I’m winning this race
Ever been hurt so much, you fall in love with being sad?
I'm learning to take the good with the bad
Maybe I wouldn't be so heartless if I ever got a hug from my dad
Maybe that's why I write until I leave blood on the pad
As soon as I pick up the pen, I get to slaughtering
The rose that grew without watering
Michael Myers with a pen because I'm constantly torturing
No brain inside my head, so there's no remorse when I'm attacking my pad and tormenting
I'm honest about everything, you'd probably prefer it if I was to mask it up
If I was to write Gucci gang a million times you'd lap it up
When it comes to talent, how can today's music artists lack this much
Stop getting offended, this world doesn't laugh enough
I was born without a brain and removed my feelings, so good luck with offending me
I'm attacking the pad like I'm Mike Tyson, I don't need anyone defending me
For speaking my beliefs they'll try suspending me
Well I'm sick of people because they're never who they pretend to be
I'm the evil genius
No longer dumbing it down for people's convenience
I grew up on Nas, Big Pun, Rakim, Eminem and Wu-Tang
So I don't care about this generation of garbage rappers or your new slang
I'm unsure how so many people can have dumb minds
Posting pictures with guns, like the Police can't go online
You act tough, but when things get too hot, you'll melt
The funniest thing is, you're all snitching on yourself
I was dragged through the mud, but I'm back
I'm learning to take the good with the bad
Maybe I wouldn't be so heartless if I ever got a hug from my dad
Maybe that's why I write until I leave blood on the pad
we need less homicide
less genocide
less suicide
but more inside connects
we more checks
and less debt
we need to be more in depth
less inept
we need more safe sex
and less death
we need more intelligent cats
less niggas with gats
less crack infested habitats
we need more reason for living
less a kissing
less snitching
and less lives sentenced to prison
we need more ways to shine
than basketball,drugs,and rhymes
we need more opportunities
in our communities
we need less N.W.A
and more P.E
less rappers more M.Cs
less people trying to rhyme like me
we need less hate,envy.greed,and treason
we need less cocking back and busting off for no reason
we need less gunfights
less shots that echo through the midnight
less tears drops, toe tags,autopsy,grave site
more black babies more family structure
less that just my baby daddy or mother
As a young teen,
she never liked parrots and bosses
Nah, never liked them at all
A parrot is always telling on you,
and a boss be always ordering you what to do
Rebellious hearts don't like none of that,
and she was a born rebel ... had a lot of sass
Young thing was a fire starter first class
Learned early on to keep the sibling parrots
in their cage
Learned it was best to throw a few crackers
their way
Free munchers usually won't
have anything bad to say
Handling a boss was an entirely different matter,
grown ups tend not to be moved by a lot of idle chatter
She figured you gotta use a little teenage finesse;
get a boss eating out of your hand,
and time will do the rest
Tell the boss how good they look and rule,
tip the boss off ... tell 'em Timmy and Jill
love to work longer hours after school
Her work for today is done,
the boss's trust is now won
Easy, peasy work
is how a teenager likes to get paid
Punching your own clock ...
that's when you really got it made
Now, about those parrots that are always chirping,
snitching on you
Telling mama and daddy everything you do
First give them parrots a hungry cat glare,
then watch them get the glassy-eye scared stare
Kid fear makes them wanna poop in the bedroom chair
Next, a simple stick pad sign saying, Repeat nothing,
this should do the trick
Because being bossed by younger kids
just makes this teenager sick
She's got the perfect plan for those parrots and bosses,
the best gamers always got the most wins over losses
Sexy ass ass, God
wonderful breast that make Virgin's love
so which ones?!?
you love those Debbie Downers!?!?
they might cut it off just to make it incomplete
you gotta be the best thing that happened to me
if you were a whore
I might take you off the cornerstone
and make cash with it instead of Ass Kissing
and I am the one YOU sex
in the symbol of a woman to make you feel flesh
Don't listen to rabbit
he ain't got love in which is like pleasure
Our pleasure is the best because our love connects
I love you dark hair
wheat field smile
cuz not even an Angel can reach it
and that my city
and you are the most beautiful so I'm snitching
Cats look at me like I've changed
Nah man I didn't forget that I started out in the weed game
Until I figured out that legal money and dirty money buy the same things
And what you for getting about them streets is
The streets is a cold game
Crab in the bucket saying cats don't wanna see you get out
Or get more than them
Nobody telling on the cat with nothing
Snitching don't start until they see you getting something
The dope game
Finally came to the realization that legal money and dope money buy the same things
Not worried about fame because that's not me on a day to day basis
Try to stay low key anyways
Don't need fake freinds anyways
Old song lyrics put my way thought of getting paid many ways
Finally figured out plenty ways
Hardworking and freedom over jail time anyday
Just making sure it's the legal way
Best lesson learn legal money and dirty money buy the same things
Blue Light Bulbs and a Bottle of Bleach and The Incandescent Must Win
(part 1)
By: J.R. Wren
A wilting flower and a blade of grass
No presumptions of the way things ought to be
Feeding plenty on light through a tinted glass
Patiently waiting and resting in what it means to be free
“Steal, Steal, Steal. Make it up and patch it.
Feel. Feel Feel. Facts don’t matter and from all myth gleans.
Reel. Reel. Reel. Fish it in and match it.
Lies from the lounge and drunken dither. -- Our ends will justify the means!”
Knowledge of privilege and equity to learn
Servers, red phones, and Benghazi aflame
Crossbones, Chicago, Philly and -- -- Her turn!
“She will win! She will win!” Crumpling papers did proclaim
Deep, deep, deep. In plain sight -- a hidden gate
“He doesn’t win. Right? -- -- Right? ---Isn’t that right?
Steep, steep. Drip from a leaking deep state
What's fusion? It's cash stowed in the store late into the night
A wilting flower and that blade of grass
May not have thoughts of what ought to be
But the Deep aim to crash through lids of glass
The steady, sure swap of twenty-one to rid of sovereign - ty
“Steal. Steal. Steal. Lick it up and stamp it.
Feel. Feel. Feel. Feed the Feds and nothing of the Deep careens
‘Real. Real. It’s real!’" TALL thinks FISA won’t catch it.
“Checked (not checked) but might be confirmed!” And the judges are part of the means
They say “check your privilege” and “equity’s sublime.”
But the phone kept ringing and a message was left
Equality and equity can’t be done at the same time
Not by the color of my skin, but a perfect dream left bereft
A blooming rose and a patch of grass
And a new child doesn’t carry what the elders see
Feeding plenty on light with no prejudice of gold or brass
Seeing no difference between daffodil or lily
Hare over turtle “and beware the snitching fox!"
“Feel, feel,feel for all our shadow’s past."
A broken doll in an empty box.
Lemon spiel and Meadow’s blast
An abrasive sponge and a bottle of bleach
Fluorescent morgue lighting - “ask for their consent!
The clinical culture is calculated for all and for each”
Ballots appear. Nanny will fear. “And soon we’ll get you out of that tent.”
I Came To the Medina
Looking for my Palestina
Baby my Baby
Where are you?
Still under the rubbles?
Still alive my Diva
Oh my Devina!
The Highways robbers,
The snitch, the pimps of the Dollar,
And of the Shekel,
Still abusing the little
Ballerina,
But she defied them all,
And she is still standing on one little toe,
With no support,
Since she became,
Now lonely in an orphelinat
My beloved, my adorable
Palestina!
Live, and live and live now,
And in the future,
Despite the A...Rabs
And the Gulf lackeys
And Al Alkami of the Palace,
Still serving his bosses,
In the Medina,
Snitching, selling his own meat,
His own flesh and honour to the Zombies,
Who used Red Indians,
Puerto Ricans,
And poor destitute,
Oppressed Latina
But remember my hero,
Who reduced those to zero,
That was once, in the famous,
Battle of all battles,
Of Hattina!
Saladin here he lives today,
And tomorrow,
With a million and a billion,
Enforced by men of deed,
Not of a creed,
And true soldiers,
Martyrs, Mudjahideena!
My countenance, a melancholy
After strange footsteps possess our balcony,
Close to my two-room apartment,
Now limitlessly a source of contentment..
I do anxious listening,
The hairs on my skin glistening;
My ears coming alive, a-twitching:
Those of an eavesdropper soon a-snitching.
A near filtering of the snatched sound,
As they keep gaining ground;
The fullest conviction that they didn’t belong to a friend.
Or if they did, who was heading for another end.
To my window walk up, risking important life
To part its blind by a couple inches;
My grimaces, summary of the inner strife
Of one inwardly wrestling with prickly pinches.
It’s a forced recreation of “curiosity killed the cat”
And Unlikelihood of soon lying on my mat:
More contortions of my face.
Like a marathoner badly ending a good race:
Several repetitions of “Who goes there?”
And you shall have to tell me, “From where”.
Overheard Supposition
Overheard Supposition
Snitching is a crime am eye a snitch my time has got to be worth more than this.
The boys was simply boys and not real criminals they pitched some eggs Oh
where eye am amiss at this eye am not sure they are not worry or even sorry or
contrite they plan on tossing eggs all night the police they said just barley
missed catching them instead they are scot free. No one else has noticed this
eye must keep this information just to me oh happy me eye can just surmise the
acid test the egg comes flying now at me to hit me in the vest. They have some
eggs now on their faces they passed the test and toss them useless and they
miss the elder statesmen on the lawns of all the mansions of the minions as
they all drive around the lawns and toss those eggs out at us all the eggs are
useless to be eaten they are tasteless in the grass and baseless as a
substance they are fun only to the ones who do the tossing not for fun unto the
millions getting eggs on.
Crumpling Paper
By J.R.Wren
Caw, Caw, the voice is rusty and the fry will always be true
The crows don’t know a suit, a camera, nor a comma splice
War Machine MSNBC has messy hair and forgot to tie their shoe
Tariff money, the farmer’s due, and the Tycoon’s not calling it “nice.”
“Don’t tell them that story yet; they won’t understand it.
What’s the format today? Are we mixing in op eds with obituaries and news?
We call it a ‘narrative’ today, and we look for the Monk to help us to land it.”
Talking heads continue to spin, and War Machine still needs to tie that shoe.
“Sit on the truth, till the snitching fox and voice-fried crow calls our hand”
Crumpling paper says they do the same job -- same, same, like a clone’s clone
“We don’t get leaks from the Deep, it’s all honest reporting we demand.
Now report it before we get had!” And CNN is early at the driveway of Roger Stone
Caw, caw, the voice is rusty and the fry will give a clue
Salt of the Earth have spoken, and they leave the tabloids on the table
Crumpling paper, and War Machine too, MSNBC, tie your shoe!
The deep hates, just hates, that a new mind is the thing to make us stable
And Foghorn will be red-faced again if they continue to ignore the Who
Crumpled paper, stop telling us WHAT, and start thinking about us and the WHO!
The truth lies between silence
wisdom, knowledge, and deception
it lies between politicians and big business men
supreme court judges and prosecutors
who be doing the sentencing
and the ones who know are too
afraid to come forward because fear is
what they be living in, and why I fight to expose
the truth the ones who fight to keep it hidden
be collecting big checks and
counting their dividends
The Truth lies between stupidity and ignorance
a lot of niggas talk that gangsta, gang banging
trappin, gun totting, killa life
they tell me to get it how I live so I'm livin Christ-Like
the truth lies between family ties and
business partners, peace makers, risk takers
the ones that wanna see someone do good
and the people that we call haters
it lies between savoring the moment
and those who are
outspoken, heartbroken, they say stop snitching
or your loved ones gettin a death certificate notice
the truth lies between me and them friends and enemies
trusting in man and puttin faith in the one who was
and who will always be with me
they met when she was ripe
fair to say he made her his wife
she fell head over heals in love
and the rest was what it was
they took on the world together
causing chaos for the rest to wether
she was the woman of the hour
he was the man with all the power
they welcomed a few into their crew
but the loyality wasnt always very true
from robberies to murders to car jacking and shooting
this duo did it all and received quite a viewing
they lived by a motto called ride or die
ironically thats what happened set up by that guy
bullets riddled their car they never had a chance
together in some secret place their souls still dance
i respect the way they stuck by eachother
neither cheated or had other lovers
they hustled to eat and put shoes on their feet
only they sought out the street and killed police
noone understood the life they lived
unless you came from the background they did
you love puppets and fairytales
they loved smoking guns and breaking deals
a cute couple they were in different ways
alone they lie in different graves
some think they deserve what they got
i personally wish they should of never got caught
loyality goes to what extent
by snitching to the cops on his friends the rules he bent
its a bonnie and clyde thang and yes its cool
sometimes its the OUTLAWS that rule!!!!!!!!!
to bonnie and clyde
ride or die
My strange tears.
The genie's eyes, oh genie's eyes.
Gather the sun's spears.
Be careful not to step on the thistles of fear.
Plaits are used to create the form.
To achieve a slimmer epitome.
You and I are friends.
Envy is what comes after us.
At the close of the twilight.
Because of Noah flood.
My strange tears.
The genie's eyes, oh genie's eyes.
My strange tears.
The genie's eyes, oh genie's eyes.
Start to contrive our departure.
A sea is teeming with adversity.
With the wrench, assemble the notes.
From every flute.
Place it in the abyss of your soul's disgust.
There is a period at the cease of each event.
Amass a set of love outfits.
Enable us to escape the dangerous ghetto cities.
It's around the awful roads.
The virus wind had found a haven there.
My strange tears.
The genie's eyes, oh genie's eyes.
Feel my heartbeat in your ears.
The condition had left him immobile.
He won't be able to catch any of the mists.
That is not a picture of the sky.
It hasn't claimed the land as its property.
My strange tears.
The genie's eyes, oh genie's eyes.
That's my propensity, and that's my flaw.
Ease up my mangled rib.
Stay aware of the words that come to mind.
Retain a checklist of it in your head.
For those who desire for it, as well as for you.
Attain a note of it by calling for a gathering.
Furthermore, regardless.
I entice her with the rhyme of my aged stuff.
I yell out my hazy promise.
It sang of druid snitching schemes.
From the eyelids of the sea.
With some salt, I can grasp the meanings.
I find the secret to her.
To quench a nostalgic thirst.
Besides, when there is a smidgeon of envy.
Detachment can yell.
The absolute first seashore.
That is where you can ensure it as love is broadened.
On the last islands of the meeting.
Love is also waiting to pass me.
Dream wine has enticed me.
The many shades of my eternal passion.
I'm an awful fan of the mountains.
My never-ending goal sparkles brightly in flames.
My strange tears, thank you.
The genie's eyes, oh genie's eyes.