Gun walks down my street

teasing me on the prowl

with a trigger happy smile,

Gun goes all around the hood

homies call him Smith and Wesson

always quick to teach a lesson

for those who be professing

that they are invincible,


having the whole world in your hands

like a god,

Gun talks to kids down the block

forming a crew,

Gun wears red, black, and blue

to show him that he's true to the game

otherwise he might go insane

bringing death and pain

to those who don't acknowledge his name,

Gun hangs out late near liquor stores

around every corner,

Gun lays on the ground when the cops come

after spitting in his heart and innocent face

without penance,

Gun tried to stare me down when I told him he wasn't a real man,

just another man that can't use his hands

so he spits and taunts at other people 

to get trust that you'll keep them safe

but really he's a disease that there is no cure for,

a maniac, a dangerous punk,

Gun almost spitting bullets between my eyes

instead he hesitates and laughs at my face 

leaving without my outline on the ground.


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