This is where I'm actually from. I'm just a rapper to most. Could've been grabbing a gun. Instead
they handed a note--pad and a pencil.. meant to $$#ist my hand as it wrote. Don't come back til you're
done, won or Casper the ghost. .

Could've been simple & dumb. Grew up & managed to cope. With the fact that I'm no different than half of these jokes. Maybe addicted to some drug. Like !@(%, !@%!e. Added to the correctional system from peddling both. I had some homies who -died in- a mobile home, -in a ride- over Jordan 4's or in line on a mobile phone while they dialing. And all they get from society is a moment of silence, but then nobody acknowledges all the problems in rhyme. . So then I promised my mom. . . I'd never be a statistic. Rather be a misfit. Than have her alarmed. But yo, it's hard to resist it. They rap about guns cuz that's the place where I'm from even though I'll never miss it! 1!

Yo. I went back with a vengeance. Got a spectacular figure. . rapping, my sentences crafted with killas and crack-cooking dealers. Who happen to be in prisons from acting upon the lyrics they heard in the rapper's gimmick. It's either you laugh or fear it.

The atmosphere is conducive to grabbing a beer and losing your passions. Appearing stupid. When fashion gear is the newest, but havoc rears it's Medusa. The battle here as you lose it is half as clear as the music you blast in ear as you're cruising. .
And "We aint got nobody to teach us. . ." says the adolescent as he leans on the speaker. And all of the lessons are mess at best that they feed us. Our parents don't contest it, so I guess they just breed us. They -never seem- to care..or just think twice. Don't need em to be heavenly. Cuz that's why we need Christ. I make it to seventeen, I'm leaving this street life. I prayed for it heavily, "God, send us a Street Light" . . .