I know a girl,

A girl from the hood.

Inside broken,

Outside looked good. 

Her family shattered, 

She, misunderstood. 

She'd run away,

like they knew she would.

Need to fulfill a void, 

she turned to her hood. 

Guns and violence, 

made her feel good. 

Murder, 

made her feel better. 

Written letters, 

to homies locked up in cellars. 

Words "Never slackin'",

always ends in somethin' tragic. 

She thought it "protection", 

To carry massive weapons. 

You ask me how,

I know this girl from the hood. 

I tell you,

I know her so good. 

You see, 

She is me. 

From The hood, 

Broken and Misunderstood.