Alfonso Madrid Jr.

My rhythm my cry my reason till I die, the gravel my soles the mountains that grow, I stand before them I see them get bigger, i climb harder with a back pack of reason.  The clouds and the thunder and rain that pours on my troubles, I refuse to give in to the weakness I hustle.  A constant reminder that it will never be easy, would not have any other way because when my time comes they wont believe it. I hang on tight on this roller coaster ride, with my hands up high. Lola and Summer I believe I believe...I believe I could fly and for you I will try till I die... my rhythm my cry.

I walk looking at the concrete, slowly i pick my head up, grasping the next breathe with a grip of a fist.  My eyes focused directly at the far blurred image vulnerable to the imagination.  The bass sounds of a horses gallop overwhelm the roar of the jungle.  Music to my ears cause I am part of the food chain, therefore I will feast.

Everyday a new day, a new way, a new say. I Conquered that one, there is another one waiting.  Faith always comes to mind when the rhythm is off.  Some kind of wonderful.  Priorities are intact but stubborn  to the norm.  I'm not like most animals, my shit was written different, weaved a whole other way.  May seem the same, but an opposite.  Most of the time I can't understand the way that it's paved, but then again... it's all screwed up anyway.  Money is power and then sum.  yeah! I sit and wait, but I'm sitting and driving what I built.  I roll with the punches, but even the best smell the canvas.  Taking no prisoners with a army of one solider.  Wouldn't change it, cause thats how my father wants it.  A career of struggle to get whats mine.  It gets the best of this hauler.  Everyday I have more ammunition to keep fighting.  For now I'll keep the camouflage as my main attire, even if all I have is sticks...