y tambien apesta tu mierda (and your shit stinks too)

this is a love poem, cuz I wouldn't check u if I didn't love u

dear brother
from another mother
so you approach me with long hair stare at my military cut
and judge what's new

you speak of indigenismo
and the sixth sun (son)
but you can't even take care of your 5th
4th or 3rd one

don't pimp indigenismo
to hate in 4 directions
while cheating and lying on 3 women
choosing to live 2 lives
when all you really need is 1 mirror

like you my shits stinks too
but when i talk to you
you seem more interested
in keepin' your timbalands(tm)clean
and i see your eyes stroll by
as that lady passes you by
you could care less about what i have to say
but merely about getting' high

and no you don't need to flex
showing off your che(tm)tatted-up pecks
pretending to be hard
so you don't get jumped on the boulevard
or when you spit to her trying to act revolutionary
quoting marx(tm), lenin(tm) and mao(tm)
tired dead men
man don't you see your shits'
dead tired

and you my sister
from another mister
you righteous now ok
it ain't my biz to say just yesterday
you were from around the way
but ok change is possible
on any given day

it's great you taking womyn studies classes
but don't pimp feminism
when you backstabbing
tu hermana (your sister)
when she's not around
ayer hoy y manana
(yesterday today & tomorrow)

you tell me you a man hater now
and you can't stand my kind
ok if that's going to free you
then take it out on me today
but don't forget
you can't fight hate with hate and expect to win
see my shit
like your shit stinks too
and when i try to approach you
about lolita, haydee, lucy and assata
you say "who"
"I'm just trying to get up in the club too"
what?
that's just fakin' the funk stay true

maybe
when brother-man gets through with the mirror
he can pass it over to you
so you can wipe off the glitter
that like you
is fake and phony too
and won't stay on even with elmer's(tm) glue

shot callers be critical of me
i drink coke(tm)
can't afford freedom shoes so i shop
payless(tm) and the 99cents(tm) store
i talk a lot smack
only at times do i back it up
i got skeletons in the closet
that are way past rottin'
but don't forget
that for every finger pointed at me
there's about four-five pointed straight at you

before you claim
to know and speak the truth
don't forget to wipe your ass
and know that your shit stinks too


Written by: Cesar A. Cruz





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