Blocks of concrete
Please...I know y’all heard it all before
Dark Streets, littered with trash and children
who roam from home that is no home to be hungry
Trash and Children
Trash and Children
Trash Children
The latter won’t be discarded God willin'
Drug deals gone bad
Splattered blood
HIV riddled from the drug use that plagues my Harlem haven
For the misbehavin’
Me? I’m never clean-shaven
Cause its always five o’clock
Around these parts
As the sun sets on a Great Renaissance
We need a Genesis or
Perhaps
a "Genessance"
Statements written in fancy fonts
While Pale Faced Aristocrats and Constituents grunt
“We will rebuild our city!”
What a pity
They didn’t notice
Until the monster towers were no longer a focus
Uptown past 96th Street where the prominent
Dare not cross into 110th Street with the hopeless
Don't Front
But Quote this
"Every Town has a 110th Street, whether you chose to notice."
Still we all inhale the ashes of those that pass us
And now choke us
What a burden for one man’s shoulders
But I forgive you New York
Botanical Sabbaticals
Safari’s in the Bronx
Bridges built from Brooklyn
A majestic municipal named Queens
Where my real heads agree with a
“Nah mean”
Electricity replaces steam engines
That roar to the stadium that Ruth built
Home of the brave
But the brave with no homes
Will stand cold and alone
As the City puts billions
Into Building a State of the Art Dome
Remember when the only Bombs in the BX were in pinstripes
And now we all look to the heavens in fright
At passing American Air-flights
“Escape from New York” Who ever thought
That a movie would be prophecy
Life imitates art...Logically
Who needs Nostradamus when you can pay 9 fitty
To witness in Surround Sound and digital color
The destruction of my city…
But I forgive you New York
I heard white folks complaining about the inconvenience
of constantly flashing a picture ID
Now you know a lil’ what its like to be me
Shiiii, I got my license tattooed to both front and back of my hand
So when I raise them in submission
It’s immediately seen by “The Man”
Gun Fire, Screeching Tires, An addict getting higher
But not necessarily in that order…
These streets worship Richard Porter
A penny for your thoughts, a quarter
To get the Eff away from me!
You walkin’ too close
I have enough demons chasing me
Stop talkin’ in codes!
Bumps and bruises
Cuts and scars
Project parking lots filled with expensive trucks and cars
‘Sittin’ on twenties’ could mean two dimes before parole
Now it means chromed out hubcaps that got OnStar cruise control
Don’t get it twisted brethren and sisters
There’s some beauty to behold
Good people, public servants without agendas and kind souls
Kids double dutch it up
Some go early
But such is luck
The ones that remain
Seem to master the game
You took my heart
Ripped it in two
Spat on what I believed in
Candy coated the truth
You hurt me, like some many others before
But I move on
And I forgive you New York
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