I wrote this a long time ago, and almost forgot about it.  I was a little angry at the time, but I could still speak it with conviction today because it could still apply.  Anyway, I never gave it a title, but I hope my point is clear.  Enjoy.

I speak to the streets

Because the concrete understands my pain

My Timberlands pound the pavement

Yet, it still must sustain and move on to another day

The cracks and the old ass hard ass gum

Tough to remove the memories of what you think of me

That’s my day to day

The cap or the bag

Snowflake inflation

Don’t judge me cause you don’t recognize your reflection

Mutha fucka, when you look at these eyes

Understand that I am the son, the brother, and the cousin of your kin folk

See, the block has left numerous scars

So I may not look familiar to you

But when you let the books in my school deteriorate

You invited me to a dance

And all suited up, you were the gracious host

Not my fault that I tango with the best of them

And now my dancing feet, have led me to teach your children the two step

Started off small

Dro, and purple haze were cute little nicknames

But I’m all grown up now, and my steps have become more complicated

Eight Ball means more than what’s falling in to a side pocket

And twenty two, is no longer my age, but my statement

Yeah, your kin folk

Shit, I don’t even talk about the trees you strapped me to

And dropped me from to watch me swing back and forth in the wind

That wasn’t my fight

Excuse me while I pour a little out for those who aren’t here

Easily accessible and ready to ease my pain

Forty ounces weren’t invented by me, nor were they made for you

Neither was the needle that hangs from my customers arm

But we are all your customers

And you get upset because I got smart, and my product is also your sons

You flash the red and blue

And now your boys in blue have introduced me to a C.O

Who now has me married to my P.O

Right where you need me to be

Under your watchful eye

It appears that I have now become your son

Or shall I say, your nephew

I mean, you affectionately would like to be referred to as Uncle

Oh right…Uncle’s aren’t always the best source of guidance

I think you gave me my first sip of beer at age 11

And yet you still wonder where I get my influence



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