Dutch & a Pack of Tokens
Locations
When I speak pay attention to the words that are spoken/
Because I'm a spokesmen for guys who pockets are broken/
And all they got left is a Dutch and a pack of tokens/
Bet when I'm done you'll get to quoting/
What would you do after you just got the news that yet another friend passed away?/
Sometimes you just got to grab a pen and attack with the pain of Donny Hathaway/
I'm from where kids play with guns and ignore what mommy and daddy say/
Where you could be walking out the Chinese Food Store and get hit with a stray/
Some people don't know much, but they know how to get paid/
So they'll take all the chances even if it'll lead to the cage or the grave/
This the, land of the free but some people still living like slaves/
You never knew how it felt to continuously envision death/
I speak to God sometimes it feels like he's touching my flesh/
Taking shots of E&J to the chest on the stoop or the steps/
For a few hours that'll take the pain away/
Smoke a Black & Mild outside on a rainy day/
I'm still a youngboy I should’ve took heed to what the elderly say/
Because I peeped at 20 you need to make your own pay/
I write poetry with the spirit of Marcus Garvey/
In Killadelphia the home of fatherless daughters/
Broad and Erie a Muslim oldhead in a kufi told me the Quran said "oppression is worse than slaughter"/
Attack with the mind of a martyr/
I'm in college but struggling broke/
Hoping turnstiles and sneaking on the back of buses praying to God that one day a reliable source of income will come into my clutches/
Philly the land of Blunt ashes and Dutch guts, and mindless youngbucks, who think a gun makes them tough until they in the jail cell getting butt fucked/
Pen in my hand powerful like Bruce Lee with nunchucks/
Pay dues I'm a student of The Last Poets, Gil-Scott Heron and Langston Hughes/