Bitches, I'm dead. Dead as a mutha, dead as a doornail, fucking stomped grape dead. Why the hell are you still looking for me?
There's so much more important shit happening than a dead junkie-ass motherfucker that has fallen through your idiot system's ass-crack.
They're beating women in Iran like it was an Olympic sport.
Children are starving for food and decent school books in DC, my old home town, our nation's capital.
There are still innocent people in jail all over the fuckin' globe. Me, I was guilty as shit cause I stole, killed, and lied to the children in my family to ride that horse. But there are people that ain't done shit rotting to waste cause they got the wrong brother, they Muslim, or somebody ain't like the way they look.
Worry yo ass 'bout them, stop looking for my dead ass.
My shit's being taken care of by Spirit and I can tell you that the only good or bad done on earth is by your choice, no one else has a say in it.
What you supposed alive bitches don't seem to get is that havin' alla faith in the world don't mean shit unless you get up offa yo asses and do some damn GOOD.
God and the Devil just sittin back with a huge bet on their table watchin the dumb ass shit play out and sometime Scratch picks up the pile and sometime Spirit does.
But they just watch, ain't no big ass hands coming outta the sky or up from Hades moving shit around.
It's just us.
Or, now, it's just you.
Stop callin my folks. I'm dead. I done learned my lesson. Now it be time to learn yours!
(The preceding was written as a reaction to seeing an article in the Washington Post about the authorities pursuing a dead man for a parole violation a full year after he died, calling his siblings and keeping his file open in spite of the presence of a death certificate. Go figure!)
