The time between this verse and the verse I wrote before this has been awhile/

I consider awhile to be one full moon and then 2 full moons later/

That very night, inspiration herself came to visit me bathed in moonlight and irony/

The irony was this/

She came by way of the Moon/ But she spoke on how we popped and locked to the record
“Planet Rock”

She spoke of Hip Hop culture and the days of Boom Bap/

How consciousness moved underground/ and how popular culture became wack/

She opened the pocket behind me/ then she pushed me and I fell back/

At that/ very moment an approach was decided/

The approach to this verse/

Like the angle of a pen aimed towards paper/

The angle of a turntable’s needle laying in the groove of vinyl/

The angle of 2 heads tilting just before a kiss/

The angle of a Dragon’s back just before he attacks/

Again I say the approach to the verse was decided/

Inspiration came to me because my love for the culture of Hip Hop is sincere/

And suddenly everything became oh… so… clear/

I decided to give the new punk and old name because he’s really not new at all/

Seeing the past and how much things have changed/

Also showed me how much, many things have stayed the same/

So with a salute to Hip Hop, Jam Master Jay, DJ Run and DMC/

I title this verse to be 
“Sucka Emcee”

Sucka Emcee is my general term for those cats that “Emcee” Sucka shit out of their mouths/

I say “Emcee” because they say shit rhythmically/

I say “Emcee” because they preach shit biblically/
For example/ the cats always speaking on wealth/ how they hustle/ how they pursue it/ how they spend it/ how they blew it/ Yet in real life they’re part of the few who actually do it/

I will salute those soldiers/ even if I don’t agree/ with their braggadocios philosophy/

But for all those other Cats/ filling their verses with drug packs/ money stacks/ cooking and selling crack/ exaggerated truths and twisted facts/ when their real life day to day doesn’t even come close to that/

You are definitely a Sucka Emcee/

I salute you as well but with mixed emotions like I would have at the funeral of a crooked cop/

21 guns fired off at the cemetery/

Cowards can almost smell the gun powder/

Scared to death because thoughts travel faster than bullets/

Making poetry change lanes dangerous like folks who don’t check their blind spot/

Now then/

A Sucka Emcee/ could possibly be/ that Cat who speaks with contempt about what you stand to gain/

So consumed by exploiting you they refuse to see the blessings they had coming/

A Sucka Emcee/ could certainly be/ that Cat who talks shit to calm skies and turns bitch when the storm hits/

A Sucka Emcee/ might even be/ that Cat that never follows through/ always speaking on what they’re going to do/ when the intentions aren’t matched by ambition/

One who stands at the intersection where dreams become old and regret becomes new/

However the worst kind of Sucka Emcee/ is an artist who expresses fearfully/ without the courage to stay true to them-self/ afraid people won’t accept who they are to the core/

A Sucka Emcee/ could even be/ a poet very similar to me/

But this one doesn’t know his history/

Doesn’t pay attention to the faces in the audience/ and isn’t in touch with the room and its energy/
A poet who speaks so fast you can’t absorb the poetry/

Simply trying to impress you with cryptic words and a propensity for lyrical memory/

Why would I pretend when it’s so much fun being me?

I’m from Queens, and I’m not wrapped to tight so I may not be what you expected to see/

I just had to take it back to Jay, Run and DMC/

So take that/ move back and catch a heart attack/

Because there’s nothing in the world that Bleu will ever lack/