Bein Gangsta

by IQue

A boy n girl starin at the world
Waitin for Life to unfurl
Wit barely an education, not understandin
The complications, feelin n lookin for satisfaction
Reactin to nature, into the season of breathin
Comes a creature, seizure, a little boy
Not another toy, through tears n joy
Sorrow bout the improbable, unsolvable
Not knowin how to nurture, wonderin bout the future
Who would be their teacher, today n tomorrow
As they argue bout adult circumstances
In a play school, house situation
Nobodyís payin attention to the little soldier
He gets a little bolder as he gets older 
Surrounded, confounded by peer pressure
Wit nothin to treasure, how was he to measure
What life has to offer, wit a lack of self control
He starts his stroll, as he scrolls, trolls, feelin cold
As angry eyes, exposes his Soul, he learns his role
1st he stole from his momma
Catchin karma from an absentee father
Ill feelins harbored, he didnít bother
To hide what was inside, it aint hard to deny
That Love donít live here, that itís better to be feared
Smellin n feelin the stink of the contest, conquest
Bullyin n intimidation are the 1st pressins
The lynchpin of his lifeís lesson
Messin n dressin, imitatin what he sees n hears
On the radio n TV, believin, relivin
Whatís happenin, in the streets
From a public school altercation, wit education
Personal relations, to street corner persuasion
He started learnin his profession
Hustlin, pimpin, skimmin, finaglin, becomin
A fledglin gangsta, not knowin, understandin 
Nor carin, it aint the answer, but as a dancer
Ya either 1 2 step or get left, tossed to the heap
Lost n asleep, how ya gon eat
Unless ya creep, leap, take hold, gain control
Of the situation, circumstances
Take ya place at the table, start spinnin a fable
Youíll live wit the label, chasin dollars
Avoidin collars, becomin a scholar of
Street knowledge, no sentiments or Conscience
Just doin what he does best
In a contest to stack chips, crush hips, crack lips
Runnin shifts til ya become stiff
As life drifts, slips outta ya grasp
As ya gasp ya last breath, ya took 2 to the chest
Bein a pest, tryin to be the best
Ya lost touch wit reality, became a menace to society
In a lack of sobriety, I be gangsta
Til death, do we part, livin a faÁade
Carryin my G card, bein hard, gettin the nod
Not bein a bard, but a target, charge it to the Game
Pain n sufferin, gangsta til ya stopped breathin
Bleedin, livin, dyin, it was all a bad dream
Bein a part, of the Gangsta Scheme.

Bein Gangsta by IQue

© Copyright 2006. All rights reserved. No portion of this work may be duplicated or copied without the expressed written consent of the author.

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