The Birth of Motorcycleboy

Down to the corner

To score some junk

The same deal as before

At least this he thunk

His mind was all wasted

As he walked into the alley

Like a trip into Hell

The natives started to rally

A white boy trying to score

In a ghetto-boy town

They thought they’d seen him before

They decided to bring him down

He sold the g-boys out

At least this they thought to be true

White boys all look alike

According to the crew

Flames exploded the tip of the barrel

A t-shirt bloodstained red

A bag of dope falls to the street

A smashing blow to the side of the head

Pleading for life, the dance begins

One shot would not be enough

Put a gun in the hands of a cold-blooded coward

Makes one bold and tough

Three more in rapid succession

Are heard throughout the streets

A friend lies dying in a pool of blood

The junk lies at his feet

Sirens ring out

But it’s much too late

Mistaken identity

Would be his fate

No justice served

Animals roam free

The Motorcycleboy

Would now come to be

Loaded with armor

He cruises the night on two wheels

Cleaning the city of cowards and punks

Motorcycleboy makes no deals

Opened up the cavity of his chest with a blast

The breath he drew would be his last

The blood from his back painted bricks red

Back crashed his skull, splitting his head

Locked and reloaded and aimed for the corner

‘Round stepped G-boy not little Jack Horner

Pulled out his gat just a little too slow

His lesson to learn was reap what you sow

Shot from the hip grazing his leg

He fell to the ground, starting to beg

Homeboy’s crew were well on their way

Not knowing their life was the price they’d soon pay

Reached for my glock and one loaded clip

Pulled back the trigger letting them rip

Down fell one, then two and another

Screamed out the last one, “God, where is my mother?”

Spigots of blood converged in the alley

My clip was all spent; I started the tally

Five down, four dead from this G-boy mob

One who was grazed, I’d finish the job

Walked over like Clint and said to the punk

“Feel lucky today?” His pounding heart sunk

One last act of defiance this cold brother said

“Fuck you, Motorcycleboy!”

Off came his head

That night he lay in bed

Recounting the battle

Counting the dead

A potion of emotion

Mixing in his head

A killer he had become

From the seed of hatred

A murderer had blossomed

He read a few verses

Then pondered them some

“Vengeance is mine, saith The Lord”

This spoke volumes

The words struck a chord

God would deliver justice

Smite the evil with his sword

He had saved God the trouble

Not killing one

But triple and double

He would eradicate disease

Lest see the city in rubble

Or would his soul descend the flames of Hell

For disobeying the commandment

Thou shalt not kill

The choice was made

Only time would tell

The act of vengeance is surely sin

He had made the decision to live

In his motorcycle skin

Never remaining the same

But an ever-changing chameleon

Some cat on a bike

Passed through the alley

An eyeless face

Behind jet black shades

Intent on business

Settling the score

Intent on murder

No brother ever looked so cold

Not staring too long

Not wanting to be a victim of his plan

Whatever it was

An indiscriminate killer

It looked like he wanted to rid the streets

Of spics, ghetto bros

And crackers alike

As he passed by

I looked back toward him

And the silvery reflection from the piece

Sticking out of his pants

Shone brightly into my eyes

And I knew then he was a dealer of death

Looking to play a hand tonight

And I was glad I didn’t stare too long

As he looked back at me through the mirror

I quickly looked away

Dreg Dealer

Two clips and a rod

Attached to my bod

I’m heading downtown

Gonna kill me a clown

One of life’s dregs

I’m gonna bust in the legs

Watch his crippled ass crawl

I’ll laugh with a drawl

“Laugh now, Motherfucker”

Watch his shaking lips pucker

Around the end of my gun

One more shot just for fun

His big melon explode

Gonna lock and relaod

Just in case he’s not done

I’ll have some more fun

Leave him lying in the mud

Pissing in his own blood

Draw one dying breath

Watch him go to his death

Your game has now expired

Sick and fucking tired

I’ll be back tomorrow

Gonna cause some more sorrow

Cleaning up this city

I’m gonna get gritty

With two clips and a rod

Attached to my bod

Thugs, dealers, bums, and pimps

Whores in high heels, street corner nymphs

Scoring a living, making a buck

Disregard for life, not giving a fuck

Polluting the streets with unsanitized minds

Never understand the likes of their kind

To not give a shit but just try to score

To stay in the gutter: pimps, thugs, and whores