I don't even know what day it is
Been working hard. Still don't have shit
The government wants a 1/4th of it
and still expects us to try to live.
Self-proclaimed existentialist,
being forced to pay to exist.
They're the higher power
but they ain't helped us with shit.
Man, how am I supposed to feed my fam?
Most of my options are illegal but I don't give a damn
Because I do what I do to get by,
while still working a 9-5.
Always strapped with a Colt 45 tattooed on my left thigh.
Don't mess with me, I'm warning you.
Do what you think you gotta do,
But don't be surprised when karma comes for you.
I'm still just a kid
But I'm about my business.
And I'll never be a witness or a snitch
'cause I ain't seen shit.
Tuesday, July 1, 2014
Saturday, May 10, 2014
6 Streets of Separation
6 streets from my Pop's crib, a gangster popped a kid for poppin off at the mouth and shit.
5 streets up, little boys and girls circle around the block singing Chief Keef's "Love Sosa" word for word. Wondering now if they understood who Sosa was and what he represented.
4 streets down, a lady got stabbed to death. Heard her cousin's girlfriend say it was drug related. That's just hearsay, so who knows. But the only thing separating the spot where shorty got stabbed and the middle school my best friend went to is a chain link fence.
3 streets away, back in '05 my uncle pimped hoes. I used to love whenever he would swoop my cousin and I from school in his all white Jaguar and ride around town with us, windows down. Blaring music. He went away for awhile. Never really questioned why. Growing up we knew not to ask.
2 streets up my homie sold all of the drugs you could fathom. Did more lines with him than you could ever imagine. But we don't discuss that anymore, 'cause a couple of weeks ago he passed away. Couldn't bring myself to step foot inside the funeral because that wasn't the first person I felt God took by mistake.
On my street, my neighbor's neighbor stole prescriptions from her father. His addiction altered his alertness so by the time he noticed it was too late for the both of them.
One nation under drugs and violence. Do what you want, just do it in silence.
Six streets of separation.
5 streets up, little boys and girls circle around the block singing Chief Keef's "Love Sosa" word for word. Wondering now if they understood who Sosa was and what he represented.
4 streets down, a lady got stabbed to death. Heard her cousin's girlfriend say it was drug related. That's just hearsay, so who knows. But the only thing separating the spot where shorty got stabbed and the middle school my best friend went to is a chain link fence.
3 streets away, back in '05 my uncle pimped hoes. I used to love whenever he would swoop my cousin and I from school in his all white Jaguar and ride around town with us, windows down. Blaring music. He went away for awhile. Never really questioned why. Growing up we knew not to ask.
2 streets up my homie sold all of the drugs you could fathom. Did more lines with him than you could ever imagine. But we don't discuss that anymore, 'cause a couple of weeks ago he passed away. Couldn't bring myself to step foot inside the funeral because that wasn't the first person I felt God took by mistake.
On my street, my neighbor's neighbor stole prescriptions from her father. His addiction altered his alertness so by the time he noticed it was too late for the both of them.
One nation under drugs and violence. Do what you want, just do it in silence.
Six streets of separation.
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