And after we officially gained entry into the Brotherhood of
      Bad Motherfuckers, what could our mothers do but lose
      sleep, wake into prayer, prepare herbs & apples, cursive the
      names of our enemies on loose-leaf & let their names dust
      in the sunlight.

Now everything is clean, rezoned & paved, tenements
      abandoned like wack parties, what is left for us to do but
      summon bullies from their graves & liberate ourselves
      from influence.

Gone as the old spots near the takeout, old flames where we
      used to make out, the spots where the light used to fade
      out, and the letters we wrote from burning buildings.

Our shoulders were made of stone, our evil was translucent.
      Turn us into mortals, so we can cry without judgment,
      surrender our cool, and watch us morph into men.

Let it be known that we chased Killer Dillers before the cans got
      kicked for good.

We were made from repeating blocks.

Holler if you hear us.

There was never a once upon a time because all it takes is one
      person to get away with it, to get away & get over, to get
      some & get up, here we go, c’mon, here we go.

You our history, you said.

If being free means burning a few things, then play that number
      for us straight.

The corner was between us & the world, and sometimes you just
      needed to be okay with not telling.

If anyone asks you about your destiny, don’t explain.

Maybe this is the story we need to turn ourselves into music,
      bass & bully, a string pulling at both ends.

They won’t find us in books, you used to say.

Everybody say, Yeah, and you don’t stop.

We practiced our lives in lobbies & layaway, ganders & goofs,
      boosting lines from the radio, breaking dynamite styles.
      We were god bodies, we had God in our bodies.

That’s what Brother Lo used to say, he used to say,

A man can stand on the corner long enough to
see a dream etched on a Herb’s forehead; to see
desperation exit from a subway station; to see
a traffic hero come back to reclaim his
       city,

so we downloaded his bars & gems, and, no doubt, when it was
      time to tell our story, out would come fire & spit.