grind and my hustle-interwined with the likes of people who may do what I do-out there doing and saying any and everything they can to get up and ‘there’–wherever ‘there’ is in their minds (because as you can see….it’s more up ‘there’ than what you think your ‘do anything for fame and fortune’ minded mind and behind can even entertain.
Me? I humbly and confidently stay grounded in knowing full well my force in this game is one to be reckoned with. I scribe different I shine different. I’m the best in this game withOUT the need (or desire) to play the silly games.
But besides all that, I don’t and won’t jump through hoops and play my soul out all across the Internet and social media and beyond just too get ‘there.’ As long I got majors and other wishing I wasn’t here, I’m ‘there’ already, baby.
My mom instilled in be an iron clad ‘can’t miss what you never had’ philosophy that has kept my soul and spirit in tact and me out of many-a-beds in exchange for up ‘there’ while I watch people run rat races like gerbils in a cage-daily. So don’t eeeeeeeever mistake me or stick me in a category of the likes of that that kind. I don’t fck with those types chasing meaningless things-they’re not cut from the same teflon as me and life and “living” has totally different meanings for us.
No one can run anything past my nose to lead me to chase or fight for nothing that doesn’t step to me the respectfully (rather than pity), or run past my nose something that’s not mine or earned (that I’m gonna come take snatch ANYWAY because of). That’s where I’m a savage.
That being the case-considering my ‘can’t miss what you never had philosophy,’ cases like this will forever baffle me: that desire to get ones hand on somebody else’s money that you had no part in, if they didn’t know you or (outside of what’s offspring-edly rightfully so) in life-ever had any interest in knowing you.
What the fck is wrong with people?
Do your inventory. My heart is so very broken that both Tupac and Prince died unnecessarily, and too, (obviously) lived with and around people in their lives that did not love them.
And well, rhetorically I say, who even knows how Tupac’s mom really died.
Spitfire .
Media Maestro .
Writing Rhinoceros .
