465 years, 7th months into the cycle and the idle still sleeps. The Streets continues to preach but the Game falls on deaf ears like it has for years. Poor still oppressing the poor despite our plight. Willie Lynch still lyching via satellite. Despite the tearing down of monuments. Witches wenching selling us out like, but don’t wanna be called Bitchez. Still a Chosen Few who knows what this money all about. How to re-up on clout and clean house. Never asking and doing what they allow, no doubt. It’s us who, don’t nobody know what they go through. Silently crying, trying daily for the life of the Game to keep it sacred what we made and communicated. The feared and hated. Kings with no thrones. Crowns nor gowns.