good evening y all i mma tell y all a story so i was walking around hing hay park right sun was goin down we gettin off of work late and i run into this this man this old man and he tells me for my seeds well being i declare war hacienda luisita i declare war for the last five hundred years been in a war to make sure that we never see five hundred more i won t rest till my story been told i won t rest till my story been told come on i won t rest till my story been told what i won t rest till my story been told yo the wicked try to justify to keep what they stole it eats at their souls guess they reap what they sow competing with your brother for the love of the dough but we know we own nothing so we claim it for show who got the guns and the gold who left us out in the cold white wilderness i travel while im searching my own its why i m flippin a poem like it was written in stone it s for the children seeking answers to the questions at home this ain t no neo soul even though its subtle and slow the political is personal you suckas should know its why my body won t rest until my story been told i won t rest until my stories have been told now i wrote the scroll flipped the script broke the mold but my people ain t free we just out on parole my collection of records is for my son when he s grown he ll appreciate the now when we call it the old these americans forgettin that they live on a globe the same planet as those left abandoned in droves kept in bondage by the chain of a creditors loan their money is like a b boy stance it stays froze i prose what the world decomposes to show the conditions that s depicted up in hustle and flow from drafted to casket these soldiers come home my craft spit the magic off the top of the dome i m walkin alone often get exhausted and blown only six feet separate the coffin and throne you cavemen insist on calling sisters a ho you ain t equipped to paint a picture of the city i roam around in circles on the back of metropolitan joe rejectin all your dogma keeps my karma in tow provolone chasin pipe dream and people to blow the created could never pay the creator what they owe working til the bone cracks over timezones push the pen to the paper nose to the grindstone i won t rest until my story been told i won t rest until my stories have been told now i wrote the scroll flipped the script broke the mold one chapter closed but another unfolds one chapter closed but another unfolds said one chapter closed the other unfolds  i want to say to the fam friends supporters worldwide if you identify with the hustle in this struggle then guess what your down with us1