Poetry,  Vic Stanley

Paper Chayse

Written by Victor Stanley Jr.




Who knew, that these cats would do things

Business as usual

Covert operations before they showed they’re true blue

We was raised to peep the imposters,

No use for boo hoos

We play the game proper

I see ya baby

You looking real eager baby

Why don’t you come step on the blocka,

I hustled streets from South Beach to D.C.’s Northeast,

Pulling through Chicago’s South Side

Backroads of Indiana

Slang laced with Virginia grammar

Cali cats holding hammers

Plug in Pittsburg

Philly cats in Lynchburg

Bmore whores and Richmond chores

Mtown doors and Pdub wards

I really did it, really lived it

No lie fam

It’s really vivid

It’s unimportant

I gained nothing for it,

But understand what I came from…

Dead man walking now I live

Born to spit

Born to kick what this is

I, give it

To rivet

The minds and they pivot

To take in the picture

Delivered in Scripture

Breaking the mold

We living the Scripture,

I don’t think you getting it dog

I did it to death

Came back to life

You know the rest

I’ve told this story before

We in the midst of a political storm,

Watching this nation crumble

This Gospel will stand though

That’s why I had to drop the roof as I rode through Hell (hail)

I throw them stones back from my glass house on the hill,

This ain’t your bank’s bulletproof (glass)

You could bring troops

With tungsten tipped bullets

And send nukes,

Death rays from space

I swear nothings getting through,

We shielded by Christ in truth

I thought you knew

I makes it do what it do

What it do baby…

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