Maybe I Will

I’m Fred Astaire on the canvas
I'm Sammy Davis
Gregory Hines in his tap shoes on cracked pavement
You're in the presence of a champion whose half made it
No belt holding up his pants with his hands raised up
Skipping rope in a dim, damp basement
Shadowboxing between the wall and a lampshade
All I see is you and my level of anger raises
I jab stronger and harder and move caffeinated
A combination of passion and rage
A raging bull in a China shop
Shattering glasses AND vases
I want your blood splattered on your fans faces
The fans who’d nevеr ask me to autograph my name
A name nobody knows
From thе waterfronts to the suburbs
The projects to the barrios, maricon
To white dreads in college dorms
Lit spliffs burning like Paul Walker with Marley on
Blanco, on a Ducati rolling
Up to your automo and pierce two shots through your Bugatti door
Adios
On to the next
I'm off…Gone with the wind
.
I want to see fireworks exploding above me
A sold-out crowd on their feet
Crying
Telling me they love me
My album loud on the speakers
Maybe I won't | Maybe I will [x3]
There's a thousand you’d and only one of me
.
Every fighter needs a theme song
And every artist needs an easel to bleed on
Every writer needs a sheet of paper and a pen
And we all need a bed sheet to dream on
Like Steve Tyler
A sleeping Viper
River Phoenix with a demon sleeping deep inside him
In a private Idaho with Keanna Reeves beside him
Sidewalk flat-lining…Joaquin dialing
He said… “I saw you on the net, you said that you're retiring…
You're a liar, motherfucker!”
Please be quiet
I retire and return every four weeks
You don't walk in my Jordans, mind your own sneaks
I was Amy Bi-Polar on a cold streak
And you're mad because I didn't wrap on your beats
Mandela sign language…Charade’ing it
Making a tonne of moves and ain't saying shit
Your record…Nobody's playing it
I'm Keenan Ivory…You ain’t even Shawn Wayan it, son i
Au Revoir
On to the next
I'm off…Gone with the wind