i just gotta keep thinking .. i`ll never see these people again. I have nothing to lose. If I do bad, they`ll just be happier that I helped them get closer to winning.
Mabey I should picture the whole naked audience thing .. ?
I don`t even know how big of an audience this is going to be. Hopefully it is just the small group of judges.
Old poem. About my fav. place. Born && raised =)
Brooklyn
My Home.
It smells like ..
The burnin of bud in a rolled philly blunt.
Newport 100 `s smoked to the butt.
Food, a variety to choose from in our diverse meltin pot.
The smell of sweat in the summer, just people havin fun, no front.
It tastes like ..
The cold hard cement, as your almost struck by a stray shot.
Barbeque ribs, burgers && chicken from that party down the block.
Dirty ass money, hustlers oblivious to get caught.
Ashes && debris, 9/11 we bravely fought.
It sounds like ..
Car alarms ringing off, drivers runnin red lights.
The silent hum of bums, surviving the streets with all their might.
The roar of dolla vans along Utica && Flatbush, that `s the Brooklyn life.
Artists workin hard, dreamin to shine with NYC `s bright lights.
It looks like ..
Dirty, filthy subways, the only way to get around.
Those hilarious transit signs of the lost && found.
The home of Big Papa, Brooklyn `s Hip Hop crowned.
Family, friends, food, baby mama drama so loud.
It feels like ..
Up `s && down `s and Highs && low `s.
Noisy, raging, crazy, sexy, cool
&& so,
that `s what makes us so unique, tourists flock to this abode.
No matter what, this will always be
my heart, my soul.
My home.
Brooklyn.
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