Ya’lll supposesd to be the one the world has done wrong and has it out for. So many different shades and hues but ya’ll got the same attitude. Wanna get together and rob or sell drugs, cuz to ya’ll its the only way you can get money. And even if you do go to college, get your degree and corporate job, you still got yo fucked up view of the opposite sex.

All ya’ll feel you a “playa” and got yo “hoes”. Cuz you know, a bitch is only good for some things— cookin yo food and givin you pussy whenever you want it. And some of ‘em even stay wit yo ass, no matta how many times you lied. But you know, it’s dey fault you done wrong cuz all dey do is nag, bitch-n-complain, and go crazy and shyt when you do shyt like cheat.

Aint nere bit ‘a sense between the whole bunch of you, but you steady yappin, swearin your word is law. Stay workin on ya body, when you need to be excersizin’ yo mind. Tryna make dat paper and “support yo family”. And ‘erbody know dats yo baby and think “had he worn a condomn, he wouldn’t be a daddy, at sixteen”. Ya dreams gone, hopes dashed and the only thing you got left is yo bottle and yo cess.

Got no respect for nobody. not yourself, or the sex that gave you life. You changed her name to hoe, bitch, slut and bout-it. Fuck love and all dat othat shit. Fuck school too, cuz it’s M.O.B. right? Money Ova Bitches, cuz u don’t love dem hoes, though when you was down and out, she bought yo clothes.

But nothin matter cuz all you care about is chillin, but people keep fuckin wit you and testin you.

Hell the whole world got it out for you right?

Cuz you a Black Male.

You looked at me and evaluated the way in which you’d sieze me.

Calculated all the right things to say and things to do.

Gave off an air of sincerity but living by standards contradictory of such beliefs.

Loving yourself more than you could ever love another, you came after me.

Obtained me, had me in a teary-eyd hope filled state.

Had me forgettin about sweet liberty and wanting to be tied in the shackles that a relationship demands.

Falling into your net more and more everday.

All the while being cognizant, but not knowing who you really were.

But falling regardless.

I have no claim in the person you became, I just wanted to keep stock in your future.

But I was ignorant to the fact that you were of the confused youth.

Not knowing or understanding which path you wanted to take.

But you still sung your lies of faithfulness and truth to me.

I got caught caught in the harmony that the lullaby provided, so that when the song stopped I was left spinning.

Now you climb on the highest moutain, to deliver a sermon of love for another.

And all the while, my heart breaks.

I put up a facade to shield myself from the pains of being released, but the walls will crumble one day.

But thus, that was your intent.

And I surrendered tot the plot submissively.

So once again I was left broken and bruised.

Thank you, Mr. Intentional.