were u serious when u started this? oh well i might as well:

to all my mothers, sons, brothers, sisters, fathers and daughters
livin' like stray dogs, see who's holdin' the collar
we used to have heart, saved by the son and the daughter
now we willin' to be killin' our own brothaz for a dollar and i'm bothered
that nobody cares
police smoke weed cripples, hidin' they heat inside of wheelchairs
people on welfare stealin' each others mealfare
reverend talkin' to God just to make sure he still there
well i ain't mad at u
u wanna run around, get your 10% like u's the mad hatter
bizzybodies most likely will chit-chatter my body stay busy by pushin' shit and gettin fatter
well i guess that means i'm just like the rest, on a quest
to get money, stone in my left breast and i think it's funny
we decide to take what's left, nuthin' left in the next cuz we took they last breath

-your boy Chip, a whack poet at heart

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"I don't want to be deep... I want to feel deep and use that feeling to express depth itself..."
-Konchance

my poetry:
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