Long Rappers Poems
Long Rappers Poems. Below are the most popular long Rappers by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Rappers poems by poem length and keyword.
Lift ev'ry voice and cry
While all our children die
Raise up the deaf'ning sigh of misery
Let all the people hear
With ever-sharpened ear
How we have lost our dignity and pride
Long ago, we had community others desired
Long ago, we had prosperity to be admired
We never raised our hand
To offer or demand
Anything more than mere equality.
But now, those days have left
And we've become bereft
Of all our peace of spirit and of mind
Insight and love we shun
Tossing the Book for a gun
So to destroy all things left undefiled
We have seen children shot dead by the bullets of "brothers"
We have seen scholars of color blame all this on others!
For Nike shoes we'll fight
Then blame the Man who's White
For we refuse to practice common sense.
Grandmothers do lament
Gangbangers won't repent
Rappers still teach our youth to rape or kill
Careless is how we dress
Eloquence is suppressed
People of mine, great is our need to heal!
We can still save our community from the deficient
And reclaim our dignity and become self-sufficient
Put down the drugs and sword
And return to your Lord
Certainly then, we shall see brighter days.
“It was the art of our words
made it too real, too raw to hold
No skin, no touch, just me and you,
connecting through the cold”
You the rap, me the poetry,
flipping lines, bending reality
Midnight texts, late night confessions,
we built our world in these digital sessions
No bodies, just words that kissed,
metaphors wrapped in lyrical twist
You spit fire, I bled prose,
two different streams where
the river flows
But then you disappeared,
like a ghost in the code bro,
no warning, no signal,
no way for me to know
You say I’m always there
inside your dreams
but when you vanish,
I only have a blank scene
Why do I ache for a place I never touched?
Showed my secret parts, was that too much
A part that aches when you disappear,
the one that types your name
in silence here
I’m strong, yeah, but see I’m human too,
and sometimes the nights get cold without you
I always hold my own, keep my guard up high,
but in the dark, at times I wonder why
Why does a ghost still feel like my home?
Why does your silence cut like a stone?
I ain’t begging, that’s not my way,
just wishing you’d hear what I don’t say
Maybe computer loves just
in the code,
but here I am, still writing ode
Soft don’t mean weak, and
heart don’t mean broke,
I’m Rebeltease, I’m love wrapped
up in loving smoke
I keep these words burnin’ deep in my veins,
lighting up all the heartache and pain
A computer love is felt deep to the core
Yet the screen at times leaves me craving more
“This is for the poets and the rappers
who meet in the dark,
for the love born in verses that
left a permanent mark”
There are no more heroes in the world
Nobody to look up to anymore
No integrity displayed by anyone
No honor
No loyalty
No honesty
Now it’s all just flash
Lights and glitz
And the latest reality blitz
Nothing of any real substance
Gone are the days of a child’s hero
Long live the reign
Of the digital zero
Media’s royalty
Is the new elite
With piles of cash
And the latest tweet
Rappers and thugs
With bling and bang
Rhyming their way
With the latest slang
What a sad display
From a once great creature
The trading of humanity
For the next glitzy feature
I am sick at the thought
Of the future of my race
Who sold out their souls
For more advertising space
It’s all too funny
To even get mad
I just sit and observe
The next latest fad
Perhaps being of limited existence isn’t so bad
It spares one the continuing freak show of the mad
Eric (and sometimes not)
The night jitterbug’s its way into morn.
The car seat’s awash in burger rappers, torn.
A lipstick stained paper coffee cup sits
precariously on the dash, backlit.
The windshield takes a direct hit
from a large storm-tossed stick.
Dana Scully, beautiful Irish lass
of copper hair and blue eyes looks good
even in the green light of the car’s dash.
A dog howls. Dana glancing in the rearview mirror
she sees Zombies rising the sound track reeks terror.
“Mulder…Mulder,” she whispers into the cell phone!
“They’re here….” She upholsters her gun, as she hears his tone.
Laying the gun on the seat best her,
she backs the car over the nearest ghoul.
From behind a crypt another comes
with a mouth full of cat and fur.
A car speeds to a screeching halt beside her door.
Mulder arrives, a bit late, but what are friends for?
Dana, heroine extraordinaire leaps from the car,
she covers her partner. He doesn’t have to come far.
Without a hair out of place or a wrinkle in her shirt
she saves Fox’s bacon and leaves Zombies in the dirt!
The man,
the actor, Will Smith,
turned himself
into a verb
with one stinging
"heard-around-the-world" slap
across Chris Rock's face
at the Oscar ceremony.
Whether he likes it
or not, he's now
a guaranteed verb,
at least in the eyes
of household-name rappers.
Some were Oscar attendees
Some were viewers.
Many watching from home
Quickly grabbed paper and pen;
They live for such moments.
I can see the rap lyrics now...
"Black on black, like Smith against Rock"
"Word to mutha, I'mma Will Smith the competition!"
"I done Smithed them wack MCs"
Oh, it's coming, believe me.
But from whom? Who will be first?
Drake?
Wiz Khalifa?
Eminem?
Perhaps Cardi B? Hey, you never know!
Stay tuned....
Assuming you're into hip Hop.
Date written: 04/08/2022
6/25/21
Always tread carefully
Among spoiled or fresh dairy
On either side of any estuary
Days and nights where the weather varies
Can't be focused on the unnecessary
Must be in my genes, call it hereditary
All this other is temporary
And secondary
Thought for once, I could achieve something legendary
Lately, I've been spending most of my time at the cemetery
The air of death carries
An eeriness, Don't go digging things up
Certain things are best left buried
It's just something I shouldn't have to bring up
"Hello" Is there anybody there?
Doesn't anybody care
Part of my career has been in veterinary care
Beware
In life it's just never very
Fair
Been in a rut since February
Most these rappers soft serve Ben and Jerry
One thing I'll neva do is provide a pre-packaged product for you
I'm quality food, so mouth shut, shallow and chew
Speaking in tongues. I came to shower people with love
like, you're not breathing enough, and that's the reason you suck
some cats can't follow me past the first line
too deep for the small mind
I laugh it up, no matter what's happening, I'm fine
just glad to be alive
focused, precise, and in total control of my life
you ain't nothin but a chump to me, just company property rap
I'm watching my back, burn bridges at the drop of a hat
ripping mics and living like Jesus for now
so if you see me in town, let me sleep on your couch, really
am-bivalent about the thought of fans listening
and watching my hands scribbling contraband images
yes, you are now in tune with the sound of poverty
album quality, straight to underground economy
you heard about the dirty weapons cause you never witnessed it
Imma human television with depth and vivid images
what's the gameplan? watch my ego do a faceplant
a chan, a god man, used to have a basic cable brainspan.
what you got, dude? nothing but a rhyme and a hot loop
and a promise you can stop it the second it's not true
now you rappers make it hard to believe in your music
I hear what you're saying, the problem is I see what you're doing
now if I bless the beat, best believe I spoke it honestly
because I know you're watching me like the flow was stolen property
so from all the love and respect to all the stuff I regret
when it's five o clock in the morning and nothing is left
no lies and no secrets to hide from those demons
cuz we live like dogs and we die for no reason
so strip the language away, the games that we play,
be creative and brave and drop some knowledge today,
with single moms living on some government checks
who struggle with debt facing a future that's nothing but stress
see, I choose to speak to those who truly need the food and heat
losing sleep while their favorite rapper shops for jewlery
kids who learned firsthand the truth is useless
going to school with bruises and a thousand smooth excuses
broken down for those who doubt the pain behind the music
like, let's rewind the tape so I can find the frame to prove it
Yes, Let's Do it. Election Insanity.
....................
Yes! Let us have all felons vote!
Better yet, let's muddy the "Swamp"
Have known killers run for Congress.
Perhaps, even be our President.
Indeed, the Americans have gone looney.
Must be chugging down really cheap wine.
Or smoking tons of powerful Ganga.
Don't forget the OxyContin...Whooh!
Let's believe those who work are evil.
Pit them against those who will not.
A typical Communist famous card trick,
Played by Commie crooks.
Let's knock over every statue of those who
made America great,
And replace them with un-American ingrates.
Let's replace them with killer rappers,too
Or female singers on TV, who love to
flash their woo-hoos!
And a special garden so inspired,
Dedicated to disgusting race-batters, too?
And a special duo needs one, also
Stormy Daniels and Avenatti, a dude so
falso!
The newest one to Jussie Smolett,
all made in gold.
Hope that idea. Leaves you cold!
Why heck! We took God out of schools.
Then like refards,we complain ,they don't
know the Golden rule.
No, they don't..you removed a basic tool.
And to salute the flag? Oh, no, they won't!
Flags are to be stomped on and for the
Burning?
All this sets my stomach churning.
In recent years, our government wanted
Their spies in churches.
Yes your ministers are evil don't you know?
But into a mosque, the FBI may not go.
Christians are a dangerous breed!
Really? Yes, so say all the druggies high on
speed.
This is my brief peek as what's coming down
the pike.
I find it all dismaying and not at all right.
Panagiota Romios
4/23/2019
3:2m PST
write about what sells
the producers yell
as i ponder the story and the story told well
whom do i obey, the art or the story that sells
which of these two will make ME do well
of course a classic will be fantastic
to be well known my heart says blast it
explode upon a world unknown
phrases which the world has not known
phrases of a world rarely shown
but when exposed to reality
true wisdom and hearts will see
the right words this poetry be
not jest to man or God this glory be
but to words that touch your reality
your hurt, your pain, your happiness, your glory
jest what the producer liked will be in this story
the passion that makes people go wild
that will be this stories style
a style they haven't heard in a while
a good ole classic in good ole classic style
In the heart of the West, where the lowriders glide, Billy Bong Low stands fearless, with a swagger and pride/
Crafting beats with a jazz-funk soul, His club hits, and acid licks make the whole scene roll/
Boomin’ bass thumps, hi-hats in the air, Oldies streaming, memories laid bare/
Tommy Ruz scratches, roots music deep in the groove, each note a story, each rhythm a sonic move.
Cruising in that ’68 Impala’s gleam, through the streets of Compton, like a vivid dream. Lynnwood to Watts, the vibe’s alive/
Brown and proud, feeling the drive.
Chills run down my spine as the speakers ignite, Classic CA jams on a warm summer night/
Weed and peach wine, the neighborhood’s tune/
Old homies, beautiful girls, beneath the moon.
Mexican rappers, with that funky sample’s flow, living that good life, letting the whole world know/
Vibing, chilling, checkers, and chess in this timeless scene, where love for the streets is more than a dream. It's a downbeat to the real/Man, what a neighborhood scene/
Much love to the block, where we keep it real, in the rhythm of the city, that’s the way we feel/ From the old to the new, the spirit remains, In the lowrider’s bounce, and in the whip's soulful refrain