Prize Fighter Son

 

 

I was 19.. lean.. mean..hard and rare as a prehistoric rock

and functional like a futuristic clock..

It’s time..You my punchy friend are fossilized carborator

with the outside squeaky clean

harboring failure in life but success in your dreams.

A fassad of a fighter .. a cartoonish boss..

that stole my sketchy queen.

Youze a blunt and he’s a fucking lighter..

he could smoke you with one flicker.

You’d be best described as an obscene nigger..

the opponent of my dreams! Perfect for a special on PPTV.

They can see it now..lights bright and full of gleam.

I can see through your brows angled down towards me.

You think your gods gift to the ring..

but your the boxing games jester... or a fuckin fling..

You won’t last 6 minutes goofing off with me.

Ya clown don’t you know I’m the king of Ko’Ing rounds

of all the frowned fighters in town. So bow down.

 

So...Bow down to the fighter that’s greater than you.

Bow down to the fighter that’s braver than you.

Bow down to the fighter that’s staring at you...

giving you this chance not to embarrass your crew.

This won’t take but a few minutes to conclude..

Promoters will get paid.. and so will you.

 

alrighty guys can we get a a shot real quick. awww.. that’s beautiful I like that flexing that’s nice...- Photgrapher Voice

 

Look you got one chance for this title.. You can’t mess it up. I see you staring at this photo glaring .. yo what’s up. you ok nigga.. where’s your head at shit. - Trainer Voice

(Bell Rings)

..alright let’s do this...

 

Round one ... It's the beginning of the story of the prize fighters son.

Oh yeah .. on the other side of this game is the fact..a little babys on the way.

She’s 9 months tonite... I swing and duck a right.. He dodges sways left

it’s a raid knuckle to the chest.. it ain’t right.

Ref calls foul .. clocks ticking..

audience is out there seats wild..

betting money is to put it mild..

Ding Back in the ring..

I can hear her screams..echoing...

in labor ...straining.. complaining .. had to be restrained...

she’s a banger tiger giving birth to the same.

There’s no one to shame.. gotta fight tonite to defend the rank.

He charges at me eyes down brows crooked with a frown..

hes now cornered me.. Whack... I got the ground..

I can drown the sound of the crowd so loud..

there screaming.. some proud.. waving there flags all around.

I lose consciousness.. a baby gains it all the same..

Screaming into this world.. but without pain..

I can’t feel my head my arms.. my brain slowly turns a stray..

I convulse.. ref barks numbers out.. my pulse shuts down.. I’m flatlined..

Baby cries.. my girl sighs relief.. in disbelief at this miracle received through conception and a practice of fertility medicine..

had a few duds miscarried like a postal van..

Now They feel my wrist and my cold dead hand

and... they shake there head fights over...

the crowd all stands. snapping pics of a corpse face down on the mat.

It’s a sick sight but it’s fact..

this baby’s gonna grow up without his Dad.

A prince without a King in demand and command.

But when it’s all said and done....

It’s common tale of victorious prevail and show.

One mans death gets one man available..

for photos and press articles ..

there obsessed with the destroyer who killed the King..

As his widow puts her baby in his play ring..

it stings. she’s alone and starts to read the front page...

ring covered in blood and Praise for a killer whose got a pass to rage.

It’s utterly insane...She loved this man..he was the one..

he fought for his family.. he battled for a cause..

What’s said is done.. that little baby boy will grow to have fun..

live.. learn.. enjoy the love...

all because he happens to be the prize fighters son.

I said it once I’ll say it again..

he’ll always be the spawn of a champ

who belonged to a sport thats known to man..

as boxing.. but known to the angels as recruiting the falling...

it’s a beautiful thing.. tragic yet true.. Angels in the clouds.. looking over you..

Your blessed to be born..to be alive..and believe in the one...

Angelic advice delivered in the dreams of the prize fighters son.

 

Get up.

Get up

Get up

Get up

Background Chorus (Listen to Soundcloud Link)