The Indirect Expression

By: Joseph Wade

The vent. The end. We sin.
They lose, we win. Christ within.
Please give me some answers
So I can take the knowledge and run faster than a panther.

And don’t forget the wisdom, when I’m marching with my niggas,
We all spit bars that have meanings and are RISEN.
Shut this shit down they no longer in commission.
The game just got locked like submissions.
My ambition is to kill all competition.
NOW LISTEN

A nigga quick tempered, remember when I spit you get the chills like it was late December
I’m a pro not a beginner. Honestly, you wish you could copy my flows like a printer.
The difference between water and blood: ONES THINNER.

I improve with this writing like indirect lighting
It’s a blessing, do wrong, learn your lesson
I’m all about the pros not the cons
Man we really in a session.
You can call this the indirect expression.

This Me

By Joseph Wade


Can’t breathe as I grow like a seed.
The streets. The beast. Just got unleashed.
As I creep I stay underneath like hell.
Break the hex, fuck the spell.
Too many bars like a jail. Time to crack the shell.
Anger is danger it makes me wanna yell.
My words are like a preacher.
If you would just listen I could teach ya’
I hold my head as I sit on the bleachers.
Thinking about why I waste my time blowing reefer.
Or why I don’t listen to anyone.
Nothing’s enough so my mentality is FUCK every one.

My Life

by Joseph Wade


Feeling my life is going to crumble, as if I was the running back that just gave up the fumble.
I tumbled. But man I’m so HUMBLE. The city of rain like a FUCKING jungle.
It’s storming, you can hear the rumble.
But no fear, the end is near, dashing like a deer.

What do I see?? Violence and nonsense, niggas from different hoods trying to represent.
If I was the president, I would not be hesitant to stop the negative one way or another.
If we keep our heads up and get along we could go much further.

Praying for my mother, missing my brother.
So many struggles so I’m steady trying to hustle.
Chopping it up with my nigga B-SAV, he always sayin ,“what’s good JD, why you sound so SAD?”
I reply, “I’m scared for my Dad, he got heart problems, he is always bothered.
He is stressed out, he says ‘Life is getting much harder’”
Can’t erase the pain like a permanent marker.

Striding for the finish line so I stay with the PEN to the PAD writing rhymes.
Can’t live life twice, feeling sick, face pale as rice.
On stage, thinking why I always wanted to rock the MIC.
R.I.P to my nigga Mike. When my music spreads people will dance and nod their heads


F.G.O.D TILL THE FUCKING END