Where am I from?
I'm from fists flyin, and fella's dyin.
Blood spillin, and kid's lyin.
I am from big fights, and long nights.
From, protect your face, to protect your sisters.
Where pride is everything, and shame was stinging.
It could be compaed to a thousand bees coming down, and swarming your face.
Where i am from, the older girls carried mace.
I am from collard greens, and pyramid schemes
From a little wood pullout table in the kitchen, and nanas stichin from when that little brown bears head popped off.
Fixed up corner stores, an funny lookin corner whores.
McDonald on Sundays, and sweet stikcy gooey honey on Mondays.
Bike rides,fruit flies nd whire lies.
That little blue tramoline that we ripped to shreds, to that giant green machine that tore my elbows to shreds.
I'm from Saturday morning cartoon on that little brown rug in that 67.2 degree basement.
I'm from a simpler time, when parents said what they meant, and kids didnt seem so hell bent.
Back when you could have sweet chewy gooey stikcy candy for breakfast because your teethe were gonna fall out ayway.
When new exctitng discoveries came daily in that upbeat, beat up more white than yelow house with the best lush plush, if you inhaled deeply you could smell my dad's kush, lawn.
So dont diss my mismatched, super patched, burnt to a crisp, tossed in the road, ran over not once but twice by a semi, picked up by a pisseed off old guy doing community service for god knows what...life.