Where I was born nothing is promised. My life is filled with less hope than the prophecies of Nostradamus. Troops with scully hats and Timberland boots, no more break-dancing for loot, niggas hustle and shoot. In the Garden State, it grows stink weeds and criminals, government funds are minimal, oppressions subliminal. These days its hard for we to find peace of mind, between insanity and sanity there lies a thin line. Some dwell in hotels with Jezebels, a stone age and fall a victim to the plague. Reconcilation came from my enemy-friend who said family dont bend. We stay silent till the end. Now who would think that your best friend would be your worst enemy and your enemy your best friend. Like Alex Haley take notes on this biography. My family tree consists of street refugees, a ghetto land, where we talk slang stolen cars bang, like my chitty bang-bang sh-bang for the heads, we aint sellin cocaine today so refrain and let my family reign okay? Just walking the streets death can take you away its never guaranteed that youll see the next day. At night the evil armies of Shaitan dont play so defend the family thats the code to obey. See jokers is scatter-brained, their focus is unrestrained. My army is trained. You never find us beefin in vain cause Ive seen fire and Ive seen rain.
Posted on: Sat, 11 Oct 2014 23:16:32 +0000
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