I'm pain in the spoken form;
This new strain came from where hope is gone.
You named them: hustlers, killers, fiends, ex-cons.
I called them: cousins, aunts, pops, moms.
To you? Hoodlums, crackheads, gunmens.
To me? Just neighbors, classmates, young friends.
I'm a cold winter morning, y'all Summer's Eve.
Took a vow to protect and serve,
All you do is disrespect and murder.
I ask that you not hurt my kids;
This is where you work...this is where I live.
Up against Goliath, to bring butter home.
I'm David on pavement, sling another stone.
I play chess, but my past is checkered,
The mic and I are like staff and shepherd.
You really only think with one part of your anatomy don't you?
While the past is the past, it often affects our decisions later on in life.
I had started to wonder if maybe my life wouldn't always hold so much pain if I could just find the courage to let it go.
A simple right or left can mean life or death,
Epic fail or nice success,
Days of pleasure or nights of stress.
Once you find your lane, you can't cruise;
When you define the game, you can't lose.
We ain't speak, clicking heat is our Morse code.
In time, you'll see a thin line between friend and rival.
Between you and me: stupidity and men's bravado.
I own the night...the heat's my receipt.
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