Hectic

Hectic




Its hectic, life in them streets gets ya defeat,
Cuz of da beast even police stays home and sleep,
livin the life as a black cheep has never come cheap,
runnin eaveryday, strugglin got me bustin of my knees,
We wakin up just to die and fight to survive,
maybe death is the meaning of life, i wounder why,
on ocasions, i release my mind to the state,
which has my mind frame sparkin like the sounds of the airwawes,
like freedome to a slave, my poems bursting out in rage,
to the ignorrant trapped in its own cage,
im still like a bullet that the shooter never shot,
risin up to the top just to fall down and flop,
the rounin weilding a blade backwards that never cuts,
hunger and rage is my weapon and with knowledge i bust,
like the street hoodlum that spit shit, keepin it real,
load his clip, hit slick, withouth keepin it concealed,
we fade to black, afraid of whats to come,
but when push comes to shove you either stand or run,