Laonev: don’t judge me, u will be disappointed to find that I’m far too great to fit into your little, ill-shaped boxes were u filed off the rest of the world, nor will I bend or fold into moulds cast out of stone for u to section-up, divide and marginalize people. that no encyclopedia, dictionary or scholar will give u the right word to neatly print in that illegible hand that small minds write in for a label tag to my toe... No, this soul was not made in a sweatshop, nor was it store bought, it has no "sell by" date or shelf-life, it will not fit into a jar to sit on a shelf and collect dust. In the height of your boring life, when u Google me...
Gino: don’t touch me, yr skin will melt from the heat that my being produces as I stand still, letting the sun itself absorb from me as my mother, Nature intended, step away from me, this closeness that u so take for granted and only recognize only when u see me come up on Google searches as greatness. I am what I’ve always said I was but greater; I am what u think I am but lesser. I will become what I dream 2 become but am. don’t judge me I am the trial
laonev: don’t judge me I am the trial. your trial team came hauling in law books by the truckload, but u can't beat me, u can't beat this...I wrote all of them books. I don’t want to afford u the pleasure of being scared and afraid, crawl into that little corner that I told u was comfort and I'll get my blowtorch. I do not speak to fill your mind with dirty words, that spew forth the filth u have let corrode and corrupt your little brain. No, this is not a revolt, it’s a revolution...an evolution of myself but pay attention coz this revolution too will not be televised... there will be no podcast, or live RSS feed, it won’t b on MySpace, BlogSpot or word press, the pictures won't be on Flickr nor the video on YouTube, but they will b seared so far into your brain that all u will see in every waking moment is how I rose above u, walking over those tattered dance shoes that once danced with all over me when u ripped me apart, washed me out with bleach and hung me out to dry in the rain...it will not b on a blog with a subscription tab for u to follow my every step, but my every step will thud and resound in u as I walk away.
Long after AIDS is gone and tales of terrorist threats are the folktales of times so long gone, they’ll think it’s a lie, this soul will still ride the wave of a southern breeze, and it will not hide in the shadows
Gino: don’t judge me, modern tech has u confusing my lingo, the language of my artistry has yr mind in limbo. harassing the very being of yr disease, the incurable ignorance u have crawling in yr machine. U r trained, not well, but trained 2 receive information and not learn, I pity u. this is not a movie and not all gold belongs to a fool. you do not faze me, yr little tantrum will end long before u realize u march alone, the band will desert u on stage, yr mic will switch off and electrocute u. I wish u no death, don’t get me wrong. I get these lines from the audience u once had digging yr lame ass song. A song that u sing at people, u gaddamn biter... I should shoot u down - hire me a sniper. DO NOT JUDGE ME, no one will believe you. I have perfected the art of illusion, I was birth 2 only bring to fools confusion
Laonev: and you are my star pupil, you have swallowed whatever I threw at your face, telling u was gold, when all it ever was dog poop in old Farerro Roche wrappers. You howl that thing u call a song and I realize that empty vessels do make the loudest noises. But this is not a concert or a contest; it’s an education, a correction of your misguided beliefs and feign understanding. A humbling of that over stroked ego that u got when u held the teller at gunpoint in the middle of a clearance sale at a rundown 7eleven
Gino: go ahead, judge me...I dare u. I want to hear yr sorry excuses of trash talk that u learnt via urban dictionary. Say something try yr best to make people believe that this golden skin aint better than Burberry. Open yr mouth nigga, spill the beans of how I made yr life a living hell leave out the fact that I made all yr dreams come true. LOUDER I can’t hear u, chicken shit now like u weren’t moaning baby yr the best, candlelit, bump n grind soundtrack setting the mood. Yr weak, retreating to a corner with yr tail between yr legs, back the fuck up, put that white flag down and don’t ever let me catch u talking shit bout me. Don’t judge me
Gino Obuseng
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