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I wanted to read but my mind was at work Listing all of the things it had seen, felt, and heard There were days void of hope, there were nights spent in tears Over all my love, dope, had costed me through the years
We are the watchmen of street We are the unpopular populace We are like a popular song that never graces the ear; a corpse flower to you   While you have a sound sleep
They knew they was going to kill him. But how they did him was a shame. They made him choose between a 45 to the heart. Or a 9 to the brain. He said he didn't tell I guess they wasn't feelin him.
They spend the block in 3 black Apollis. And 2 all black bombed-out minivans. Caught up with them niggers and left their bodies riddle with holes the size of soda cans. Play boy was caught up in his emotions all high up off that lean.
You ever walk down the street, and find it empty? The sidewalks barren, with no one, nothing in sight. The lights are dim, as if knowing  today is nothing special.
Pink anemones Black hearts shamelessly openn sleepy love Here, behind the window There where princes escape well Finding shelter in the rain drain We neither hide nor share
Everyday that I awake I thank the creator for the day then I brush my teeth with toothpaste and wash my face. As I pray for my sake Lord my soul is yours to keep, guide me through this day and keep me safe like a sheep
Industrial decay Left the workers in dismay. Jobs lost, life costs. The buildings are in ruin Yet the teenagers pursue in The creative inspiration This nation chases them away from.
Street light Not burning On the night Just dark Moon waiting Dog sounds Just fight    
I cant even focus all i hear is people talk locust.They think i´m mean, but they don't know a thing that i mean.So let me laze you up, while you talking bout blazing up.
Their eyes trace my skin Like fingers on a page. Their words find my ear With laughter coarse as sandpaper. The whistles echo In the din of the street, And although I am surrounded
Peddling fast down that black slate, circling that busy cul-de-sac. I peddle faster. That snowy dog stares at me through the silver gate next door- one blue one green. I peddle faster.
I go to sleep waiting to dream To get away from life everything seen Fighting each other they love what they see That's what they want beg and bleed for some feed Oh well I'll just start slanging some weed
Woke up in a dream under asphalt treessoaked in the sap of the sweltering citywearing these old rat rags               and sneering at the concreteGreyscale mindset stitched into my sleeve
Floating Hovering above where I want to be Reality isn't about keeping calm or carrying on Reality is fog in a forest Orange trees swallowed whole Unaware of what is said or heard
            Corporate media dominating the airwaves             It's a time for change             Washington D.C. no longer representing me             It's all a plutonomy  
Infantry of a corner clique's imagery Imitates actual industry. Instead it’s often in-the-street, Marketing products with a PRE- Caution, 'cause cops will cripple thee Business. They call it criminally
湾岸や 走り屋乗ってる 排気ガス   Wangan ya Hashiriya notteru Haiki gasu   On the bayshore route Street racers are out driving Exhaust gas in air  
Saluzcion's Never been the type to write my name on a ballot and cast a vote Placing my goals and aspirations on the next man's hope; nope Wasting time slow; going through procrastination,
I rather be thought a fool then open my mouth and remove all doubt; speaking on things I know nothing about or live through But the sad truth is so vague Like body ash in a cigarette ash tray, pause,
As I sit back and reclined Enjoying a cubano and glass of wine I cant help but think of the modern times; where ladies are hard to find, and all I see is dames and dymes
I'm either gonna rise above poverty or define my existence A poetic vision, encrypted with a hustler's ambition, listen dying for what a icon stands for ain't the mission
Isolation and depression Go hand-in-hand When you’re too far away from where you should stand.
I was concieved as nothing less than a miracleFrom 3-7 was too damn hysterical8-12 i was growing up, afriad to be minimalSo by 13 I became an infamous criminalFrom 14-16, i paid my does, so i thought; super imbecil 
A few years ago, I had to make a decision Remain in the hood and risk going to prison Continue to allow the evil to cloud my vision Or pick up a pen and become a musician Ever lyric, every bar, became my ammunition
It's not that I wanna screw it up, I just so happen to be good at itIt's not as if I don't wanna quit, but unfortunately for me I'm like my father another addict.
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