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In my city it ain't pretty
Heads stay on a constant swivel
Walking through broken glass lots
Hearing gun shots ducking in dirty trash alley ways
Looking at heroin addicts sideways, as they stagger like walking zombies
Young mommies clutching EBT cards to provide substance for bastard kids exiting corner stores
Slamming of doors alarm sounds another car boosted
Pockets looted as gun placed against the dome
Homes behind iron locks and bars tighter than Fort Knox...but no gold inside
Dope boys on the corner hide and scatter like roaches when the boys in blue come on the scene
Black faces mean, as hardened exterior is protection of the day, for weak prey can't survive in these streets
Hearing blaring rap beats as negative lyrics on blast depict how the set is livin
Drivin by hopelessness and despair for many, chances of escaping this concrete jungle is nothing but an illusion
Confusion of not loving self is a dangerous game to play, if you don't make the right move
Young dread heads on the block groove off blount smoke to suppress their current reality
Casualties of war are welcomed when your trapped in these wicked streets
My city
