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.
