Baking in Hell's Kitchen

The bubbling and crackling

Leads to huge paper stacking

Elixir mixing

Girls on the pole stripping

Ass spanking and tipping

All from product stocking

Leading to cash flipping

Four burner stove

Like a witches coven

Consuming like an oven

Bake me a Pie

Get them high

Hyped like a Russian spy

Burnt soul remnants

Left over as residue

Microwave it like HAARP

Now stuck on it from the start

Brain steamed fried

Now a man apart

Checked out from the shopping cart

The cash is never short

Toasted like a pop tart

The Kitchen is hot and dark

The devil is the product

Heaven is being sold

Hot to the lips,

But cold to the brain

Like Antarctica in Africa

Eyes bleed to the deed

A runaway slave to the need

The homeless must feed

The kitchen is cold

The cops look and scold

But they keep their hands fold

While I work the product into a mold

A dangerous art to be sold

Buying and selling souls

Subliminal mind control

The recipe, never too old

^{Disclaimer: This Poem is subliminal}

The Children are Crying Out for Love - Showing Love To Homeless Children

Tomorrow is Promised to No Man - Asking JAH for Mercy

Respect the Poor or ...... - The Importance of Loving The Poor

I Still Have My Ambition - Poem About Not Giving Up

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Copyright © 2012 Rasta1