Bulletproof

BULLETPROOF:

Bulletproof are your dreams. The dreams you had when you where young as a kid and the dreams that you had when you where rolling as a thug on the streets. Look deep inside yourself and see the dreams that shine through and beneath where you stand. Walk on to live your dreams, through the shadow of death, either that or worse yet been dead up there.

Bulletproof before the day that you arrived on this earth and will remain until the end, the day that you knock upon heavens door. You will go on for the dreams that continue rising on, don't look back look on. Realize your dreams see what they will be and no stray bullets will ever stop you in your path to achieve.

Bulletproof from the day that you out walked hate that stood in your way to shock your dreams and esteem. Shockproof are your thoughts through life and crush proof are your dreams. No matter how small or big. Never too small never too young to see it, all you have to do is to believe in it. No raindrop for the road ahead, close your eyes look up and see it’s splendid. Only you can walk on it, it’s your path to live it, dream it, open your eyes to see it, its in front of you believe it.

An army of dreams, a full platoon waiting to be achieve. It’s your artillery, rearmament of your dreams. See the light shine; there is a reason as to why you close your eyes so when you open wide you will see the divine mystery. Getting on this earth was just the beginning; don't shed tears, share dreams.

Keep in mind bulletproof congregation of your dreams inside been realized. Let them run free on this earth and universe to roam wide. Keep them in possession never loose sight of those goals to live. Look deep inside yourself and see, bulletproof are your dreams. Trust in them to believe, they will never cease.

© Pencho Corleon 2003.

Photo: http://www.abandoned-orphaned.typepad.com

To All My Haters

TO ALL MY HATERS:

To all my haters who don't like the way I walk the walk, talk the talk through the block, and hate that! To all my haters out there who don't like the way I stroll in control, on payroll with bank rolls, hate that! To all my haters who don't like the way I roll, even patrol keeps and eye on me as if I 'm on parole, hate that!

To all my haters, I hate the hesitated action of 49 states to help 1 in need during a disastrous malfunction. Who delegated to backdate help? Increase death rates and cause unnecessary widespread deaths? Children screaming, coffins filling, the poor once again getting second rated treatment. I'm notorious for seeing this and screaming. I am not forgiving, my demon inside wants revenge to avenge the helpless here I stand fearless till the end.

To all my haters who hate the way I dress, my fashion labels pressed, I impress, don't obsess, haters can never crush my success, so they hate on that! To all my haters that hate the look I give them when I roll, then they shouldn't stare and compare like where not from the same place as you, mother earth, I'm always prepared, and they hate on that!

To all my haters, I hate your fake, lame ass fashion, jacked up prices and Hilfiger racist arson. Kick the hater off the Winfrey show, keep the hater honest and boycott his racist hate for the world.

To all my hater who hate my video shows, it’s sure to disclose a mature audience label along with locos en El barrio eating tacos, hate that! Don't like the music I shed tears on, because I mention what goes unsaid and caused widespread bloodshed, hate that!

To all my haters, I hate the miscarriage of justice, power trips by those in power against the disadvantaged, racist comments and injustice, haters who think their always right and their shallow thoughts about what they want, lying ass bastards, along with dishonest priests, corrupt police and extremists on the streets. Hate That!

Scams pulled over our eyes to keep the truth out, I ask why? Mass media misinterprets and informs the nation with false lies, hate that!

'Haters Will Forever Hate For The Wrong Reasons.'

© Pencho Corleon 2005.

Photo: http://www.current.com

Definitive Detention

DEFINITIVE DETENTION:

My rights inadequately protected, anticipating my life's lesson. My sense of worth is misrepresented where fending for myself is a deadly statement. Provoking fears in minds, consider me the basement.

Not even history can judge me and understand my healing, before the streets it was a dead feeling. Fluently discriminated by the justice system, sequence to the law learning what life is to be, to be in conflict with the law of the streets that's prejudice, negative and brings grief to the humble life that I live.

Detention of my liberty, the difficulty in determining if my life is free. Detained and judged before I can speak, the presumption of a guilty kid under custody. The stress and humility, the difficulty in determining if my life is free.

Disrespect authority for my liberty, keep my head up for my dignity and stability. Gaps in the system that permits discrimination against my brothers on the streets where our rights are dismissed, making it impossible for the poor to live. Definitive detention of my liberty or the penitentiary.

© Pencho Corleon 2003

Photo: http://www.thuglifearmy.com

Echoes Of War

ECHOS OF WAR:

Echoes of war flood my body, taking my finger of the shotty I’m stoned with courage. Life or death, the blood shed, the finest life blessed with Gods breath stained by the blood of distress. With my hands up, walk against that, your either for or against us.

My hearts trembling as if I am about to face death. All my nemesis crumble to tears when they hear me, it’s like the premiers. Hit them up there in the head my frontiers it appears I'm possessed. Humming away with my stone cold breathing, my pulse keeps singing whilst graveyards are hearing, and no fear is all that I'm feeling.

Bleed from the trail, scared from the Holy Grail. Armed to keep killers pressed, whatever they bring I ingest and manifest. Never going to let it rest, even if it gets full scale. Experiencing the withdrawals of being carefree and having a real taste of life, I still carry my guerrilla knife. Staying head strong, sell my soul to hell or become stone cold. Hang on, grasping on for revenge, dead on.

Holding on to my guns baron, with the greed of freedom in my heart. It lives with me never apart. Riffle thoughts from the day that I returned from war, shot, messed up and still showing love. Sacrifice, thrive alive, now that I ride free from the stress of knowing that your two steps away from death, two wrong steps that end your breath, two steps that get you shot dead.

Memoirs of scars from being spotted by radars, now living life in luxury with my cigar and Spanish guitar.

© Pencho Corlen 2003

Photo: www.earthoria.com

Press On

PRESS ON:

Uphold a strong hold on yourself to press on, no more staring into space with a look of sadness in your soul, to press on for life you have to hang on. No one in this world runs the world, your life's yours. Who sowed the seed to bring you life? Your parents did and a free life you’ll live.

No one here can say how your future will be. 'Quality Freedom' is the quote; humour me, its right here. Continue on for the life that took centuries to braid and maintain, hold on.

The present and the futures here. Press on for better means for society, where every race is recognized for who they be.  Freedom belongs to every race it’s a known belief, no one owns it. Speak up, express your mind. Prepare for it and make it better for futures to be.

Look into your past and see how far back you are in history. You are important as can be, make a stand against the misery.

© Pencho Corleon 2003

Photo: http://www.daylife.com/

Myth

MYTH:

I hate the free world that you call it. Its a lie and you know it. Rich getting rich from the poor, yeah we know it. Now hear me, believe me, its a fact that you stole it.

The free world is nothing but a set up. To keep getting rich from the ghetto get up.

Oppression is the name of it, a free market is not how we know it. Money and power is the truth of it. Back pocketing business crooks have proof of it, and the GO help do all of this.

Criminal generations, of generations laying claim to what is rightfully ours.

The past can be forgiven, but what does that mean to every new generation that is in need of healing?

© Pencho Corleon 2003.

Photo: www.old-picture.com