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Forget the world and the ghetto  too.

When I wake up I get ready to lace up my shoes.

Walking out the  front wondering if someone is going to shoot.

Five weeks earlier my home-boy kirk was shot all over the news.

I try to take care of myself to put on a strap.

Running away and shooting at the same time was the only option that gave me help.

I hustle hard to get out of hell.

Hookers on the corner making their paper and drugs being sold was the only job that gave me wealth.

During the day I pray to God give me some help.

 I knew he will never turn he's back if he's son need the help.

Sometime I ran sometimes I belted.

But now I do music.

I'm just here waiting being patient.

Hanging with the right people that will take me to the top.

Hoping all my music will make people feel what i feel will make them come alive.

Now I'm making money the niggas I grew up with think I should not apply.

 

 

 

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Comments

MVP-Most Valuable Poet

its powerful that someone saw beyond the hood

though it wasn't easy because there are enemies that wanted to see you fall

use this experience to aspire in being a great artist

i can feel the words as you express it

keep writing

Since thee

I don't really live in the hood. This is a poem I wrote if my mom did not move us out. I have home boys that been shot and died and shot at. I also been told that I couldn't make it in music either so i'm still praying it happens.

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