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A Day In The Hood

125/365

Down the street,
43 year old gangster,
Selling dime bags to teens,
Dying to get their hands on it,
They come from the high school nearby,
Thinking they’re gangster too,
They’ve got that look in their eye.

Each one strapped with a gun
In case “shit get real”
“We men, we don’t run!”
“We die right here!”

The young naïve white boy cop spots these kids
Hot headed and ready to knock someone out of their socks,
But he’s scared he’ll be called a racist bad cop,
And he turns the other cheek,
Refuses to do his job,

Those teens did what they planned to do that day,
But got spotted and followed to their homes,
To their moms,
Where ever they stayed,

When things got violent all three teens died at the hands of that same dealer selling dime bags,

They didn’t realize it was like that,
He was strapped front to back,
Ready to attack,
Whatever came up,
He didn’t give a fuck,

True thug born,
Settled on a corner he calls his store,
Hording every penny, drug and whore,

Soulless,
A product of his environment,
When the younger kids retaliate,
The oldest simply takes his place,

And the cycle repeats,
Call it the hood.