I'm pain in the spoken form;
This new strain came from where hope is gone.
I'm a cold winter morning, y'all Summer's Eve.
Up against Goliath, to bring butter home.
I'm David on pavement, sling another stone.
A simple right or left can mean life or death,
Epic fail or nice success,
Days of pleasure or nights of stress.
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.
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.
Once you find your lane, you can't cruise;
When you define the game, you can't lose.
I play chess, but my past is checkered,
The mic and I are like staff and shepherd.
While the past is the past, it often affects our decisions later on in life.
You really only think with one part of your anatomy don't you?
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.
I own the night...the heat's my receipt.
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.
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