The African American Life
Location
I wake up every morning
never taking breaks.
I gotta play it smart.
I refuse to catch a case.
I walk these streets daily,
and as I look around,
I see a world of lost souls,
with their head hung down.
Different day, same sh*t,
that's how it is,
whether you work a nine to five,
or you're in the cocaine biz.
It could be our ignorance.
It could be our sins.
or it could simply be
the skin we're in.
Either way, I'm an outcast
of what they call society.
I get looked at
and I'm labeled a minority.
What my people see
is the absolute worst.
Visions of happiness
with realities of our children in a hearse.
But somehow I manage to make it
without ending up dead
by listening, watching,
and praying before I lay my head.
I talk to the big man above,
and thank him for watching over me.
I cry to Him every night
thankful for his mercy.
Out here, there is no choice.
You go hard, or you die.
Noone sees your scars.
Noone hears your cries.
All here are lucky
If they make it to age eighteen.
Most of us usually end up dead
too GREEDY for the green.
Money, money, money
That's all my people seem to know
besides weighing and sacking weed,
and cooking up dope.
But every night I pray to leave
I know He hears me without a doubt
The problem is if you are born in it -
There is no way out...