Flintown

(poems go here) "Crime ridden, blood sheds on my city's streets America calls us thugs, drug dealers-my city There are no fightfighters or police to protect us We still love GM, even tho it has left us We fight for the unemployed and lives thrown away Youth scramble to survive the day A mother cries, her son passes away We've hit a Great Depression long before America did Our Flint streets always losin' kids this is my city-bad as it is. But as crazy as my city is for every person murdered after dark someone's shootin 300 J's at the park or artist paintin the Rock Hardwood in the winter City gyms packed for City wars in December. The Journal disses our teams, then we hit State finals 810 loves it seems ballers-Glen Rice, Andre Rison, Mo Cleaves. My ciy is the hardest,always bright minds shinin through darkness. My city-so real,Downtown lookin too pretty, Flint,M.I-my home, my city."-Shaquille Hill