A killers mentality is what has got him infected
No parents at home,
His family left him neglected
Look.. stealin purses n wallets ain't no good
But he's just tryin to survive,
He's a product from his hood
Looks in the mirror,
Knowing the world is on his shoulders
He's already cold-hearted, the stress is makin him colder
Doesn't have the strength when confronted with the boulders
Nobody to run to,
It seems his life is over
Suicidal thoughts always pass thru his mind
Eats any scrap of food on the streets he can find
Had to get protection,
Now he's walking with a nine
A victim of the streets, shot once n his spine
Worked for dis dealer,
A few times..he was a funny cat
But then got fired,
Cuz he could never bring the money back
Wanted love n his life,
Always asked "Where's My Honey At"??
But couldn't get at girlfriend because he was a bummy cat
Stress is building up just to achieve a dollar
Now he plans to rob a nigga
Put the pistol to his collar
Pull on the trigger until the victims starts to holla
Who would've known that he just killed his father......
Now look what these streets do to a lost black child
He's just a little baby n these streets thats wild
He can't even remember the last time he smiled
Every time he thinks of death his heart beats loud.
Faisal Jama
Copyright © 2010
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