Elitists Poems - Poems about Elitists

"God give you the strength to finish this your way"? I don't think you are first on his list, a special chair on judgment day? better meditate, get it straight, rinse and repeat, people are people so maybe when you're not "winning" people say, not sarcastically that's okay, he's allright, he's a good man with a magnetic personalitay livin...

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I'd rather see her doing something her talent can reach. A play for God, a message for humanity, but that's just me. You want to talk about coverage? Our receivers ain't receiving? Specifically? Candace Owens ( like a Biblical Esther to me)..... especially intelligent, especiale de destiny. If blessfully she smiles on us (winks) as she...

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Well, well"aint seen nothin like me"? No one is shocked a person of darker pigment can pass a football or do anything they set out to dream with heart in hard work. I think you better stick with a spork, instead of hotknifing that herb, rubbing that lambp of piper sheeptoslaughter jerk. Catch more bees with honey,...

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Newtonian physics say what goes up must come down sorry not in the camp of horn tootin, high falutin clowns justice serves only to rebuke you, not too astute of you when youre bragging of genetics, a sword in the mouth can cut the lips can gag you with double edged aplologetics better watch out for backlash from observant...

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All these racists with their lies, filling the airwaves with propaganda and strife, Stalins with soundbytes, Magellan their drivebys the pasts dead end street -topically jacknifed like it was the only course for a heading, point A to point B. We pedestrians to lame a detour again, hobbled by peasantry. But yevolt! Herr Commandant! the halt needs to screech,...

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Now you know full well what they're about, they're about using you aint know better than wizards of wall street, rockin the beat with a juke. Vegas bookies abetting frauds taking odds right against you, left to die in the streets, exasserbated by your mental masturbated mood. Playing russian roulette with only our head at the gun, stirring up hatred...

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There's more than meets the Horus Eye, in the recording industry Too many whispered songs have come like a dream Have came in the ear like malefecium shot from a midsolstice night ween Entering in the rear of the subconscious mind Open up the soul and let the spirits opine Now there's always a way to make the people...

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