Im begining to hate dancehall music. Im begining to hate the influence it has on our Kenyan youths. Im begining to hate those moments when Im walking through the hood, then these ninjas approach me with a bowl in one hand, a photo on the other, and dancehall music playing on the background. And Im begining to realize that yet another ninja has been shot. Im begining to realize, its the ghetto funeral fundraiser- the third in a week. They were innocent, they say. But Im begining to doubt it. Im looking at his photo, and Im begining to realize the pain of a small bullet, crushing a big dream. And Im looking at his face, and Im begining to realize he wasnt born to do this. And Im peeping into his coffin, and Im begining to weep for a ghetto youth I hardly knew about. Im begining to hate how the brave ones are called cowards, and how the cowards are called brave. Im begining to weep for our youths, who only think that life is all about weed, jabba, crime, and women. Im begining to weep for their funeral, even though they are still alive. You all ghetto youths, dont ever use poverty as an excuse. Regardless of whether you were born rich or poor, we all gonna die poor. No one takes his mansions and limos to the grave. So dont ever be in a hurry to get quick cash at the expense of someones pain. Dont ever be afraid to say no to these gangs. The strongest person in the world stands alone in his own behaviours and ideologies. But cowards depend on each other, to walk in groups, rob in groups, rape in groups, harrass in groups, but eventually die alone. Get up my ghetto youths and hustle for clean money. Go flush that weapon down the toilet, and walk out of that door a new person. Stand alone my ninjas; youll fall a couple of times, but rise countless times. But stand together in gangs, rise a couple of times, but fall only once.......into your grave... The choice is yours.
Posted on: Mon, 01 Dec 2014 07:13:03 +0000
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