Shots Fired

Trying to make sure the boys IN the hood don’t look my way.

Two shots a day if I run fast enough...maybe it won’t hit my brain...

But granny waiting for me in the sky...

And I know that SOMEDAY I’ll die but the way I see it why not now than later?

You see, where I grow up, they tell us orange is the color of our futures and, where I grow up...our mothers prepare to be on the news because they know one day they won’t have a child to come home to them after school.

She cry, she cry, she cry, and it happens all the time but cops handing out bullets every which way because that one boy walking down the street was black too and they couldn’t tell the difference. 

But that’s just the way it is. 

She cry, she cry, she cry, and they telling her no, but she can’t take no no moe and...shots fired...

Where that bodybag go?