Dear Hip-Hop

Apollo Fields | Dear Blank | Terrence Huie | Dear Hip-Hop | Writer

“Dear Hip-Hop,

You didn’t save my life, 
But you gave me a line, 
A pulse to move to,
a New York State of Mind. 

A rhyme schemes dreams according to time, 
Rhythm and balance, 
Two of the hardest things to find. 
Perpetually looking the line seems crooked, 
No Heart of the City when it’s trapped in Central Booking. 

Bars on bars on bars on bars; cars on cars on cars on cars. 
Traps everywhere, no keys, 
No Role Modelz, just steez. 
No surprise, get lost in the game, 
Grab the quickest ticket to fame.
Go to College, Drop Out, remember thy name.

“You ain’t got no Yeezy?”

My first album ever was snatched from my locker,
Patiently Waiting I thought man, why bother.
There’s no honor among the thieves, 
I came from a school forged on Wall Street greed.
You see, 
Justice is rarely Poetic, 
We don’t get what we want, 
We get what we need.

The World is Yours,
Terrence”