Invisible Tupac

You can’t tell me they aren’t there
You can’t tell me that they all change their sound
Somewhere on a street corner is a:
Ten year old Tupac
A kid with a heart of gold
Who needs to be surrounded with
Hearts of gold
Hearts that don’t grow old
Instead are jaded with the radio’s mold
Of trashy my-car’s-better-than-yours filth
Or my-weed’s-the-bomb-___-____ filth
Or my-crew-rolls-harder-than-yours filth
Because you don’t have a crew
If you truly did
You wouldn’t glamorize that life
You would smash it with all your worth
Pick up the pieces
And resurrect your friends
And build up the ghettoes
Instead of tearing down
Women
Desperate women who should be
Strong mothers—the fabric of society
And instead your women are just
Sex
Because that’s what sells
And who’s behind that?
Radio conglomerates playing pop shit
Shit that’s wack and other stuff
Auto-tuned to your desire…
Putting silly shit in your head
Encouraging you to not be well-read
Inspiring false dreams in your bed…

Where is Chuck D hitting us in the mouth?
Telling us about the Arizonas of our lives
Where is hip-hop?
Punching us in the chest
Instead of sucking off everything
A radio full of vacuum cleaners
And we’re just crumbs on the ground

Young man with righteous heart
Tear the pop-rap world apart
Hold onto the iron sledgehammer
Bolt your self down
And smash through the industry
That usurps your town
Plays you for the ghost and the clown
Rise up and stand your consecrated ground
And realize that God is still around
Singing songs like Tennessee
Whistling wondrous rhymes from the whirlwind…

Don’t tell me their aren’t artists out there
Ten-years old
At home, doing homework, and then sneaking the
Flashlight under the covers to write the plight
Late at night
When problems are solved
At the same time problems are created
That’s the case
But whose face
Wins?
Ask Mase
And that’s just a taste
Of the pace
Of the radio’s rat race…
What a waste and disgrace
When we make haste
Or our morals and lives
How is that ten-year-old boy going to survive
When you dictate his life
And you disgrace his wife
Put her on the cover and surmise
That the world’s going to love it
And the hand’s going to glove it
And that’s how your truth is built
Without one ounce of guilt
And now you’ll use false Biblical claims
For selfish monetary gains
One genuine move and your shot
And your image starts to rot
You can’t be your self anymore
Because the self doesn’t exist anymore
It’s hidden like the similes in your mind
That exchanged dollars for dope rhymes
But that’s just the nature of the game
Worshipping idols who make it rain
The green is always to blame
And the quest for false fame
Where is God in all of this again?
Incarcerated
Invisible
Unintelligible
Unelectrical
No more soul
No more mind
No more heart
Gone before the very start
Of a young man’s life
And you know that’s not right
Where are the Tupacs of yesteryear?

Thought he was going to be someone?
How?
When all the stupid artists rap about
Is getting high
And he thinks that’s the Why
In his life
And that becomes his wife
And she becomes the dog
To kick around
In the ghost town
Of his soul
That you created
And now
He is another
Invisible Tupac