if the stars could tell me the truth
maybe i'd listen more often..
ensted of dreamin of gunshots
and my mother picking out a coffin..
i live my days one at a time
my brain is my pen and my mouth is my rhyme
so my heart is made out of steel
because of the trials ive been through..
things ive seen and had to live through..
ghetto kids, living without a father..
a cracked out mother cant afford a doller
because her pussy was for money but she never bothered
so i give my soul to you hoping you listen to my words
another teen from the streets, chirping with the birds..
i went from, poverty to drug deals.
ive seen it happen so many times.
so as i pour my blood on this paper
im wishing you make a change and i can help you with my ryhmes
