The African American Life

Tue, 10/01/2013 - 00:45 -- JPaigee

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...

 

 

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