You walk with a gangsta lean
Tryin' to look real mean
Timbos, gold chains and sneaks
Looking 'round for a cheap
Thrill
Sumpin' to get into
Hitting the club
Your daily goal is to look like a thug
It's high time to face
The man in the mirror
Let go of the furor
I wonder what Malcolm and Martin would say
Can't you hear their Spirit
Crying out everyday
Sayin' brotha', brotha' do you have some time
Stop selling that rock, and committing crimes
Yo Boy it's about time that you learned
That if you don't chill, dat ass will get burned
Stop and think for a second
The things that you are doin'
Because in the long run
Your life you will ruin
Haven't you learned from brotha's in the past
That drugs, fast cars and easy money don't last
And all these different women
You're playin' craps with your D*ck
'Cause AIDS will catch you and kill your ass quick
Now I ain't tellin' you what to do with your life
But take heed brotha 'cause you're livin' real trife
I cannot condemn because I understand
Those shoes I have filled while blood was spilled at my feet
No sweetness in the air of a world consumed with hate and despair
'I'll take you there' though my last name isn't Staple
In these streets where the drama gets as thick as Maple
Syrup
So hard to rise from captivity without help
If no one loves him it's hard to love himself
Malcolm had it right when he said "By any means"
Freedom has now evolved to the survival of his tainted genes
Everyone can live the right life if they are willing and able
But sometimes that does not put food on the table
Street soldiers don't volunteer but they are drafted by fate
It's too late to change the cards in his hand
He is a young black man forsaken to life's floor
Trying to enter a locked door that holds the key
To unveil his inner mystery....
When the walls close all around
And God's creation comes crumbling down
Separating the free from the caged
Rest assured that the Jones' will be marking your grave
Here lies the Mentality Enslaved
Ignorant because he couldn't define his humanity
Before the streets altered his reality
A rotting corpse because he chose negativity
Over the open arms of prosperity
And dead without peace
Because he chose to live for the streets!
Joy and pain
Sunshine and Reign
Remnants of life filter down sewage drains
Raised to be a son but not to be a father
Nuttier than all of Washington's carver
A life span short of becoming a martyr
Bitter thoughts of home dilute memories that are sweet
The only soul that remains is those on his feet
Clutching onto the ebony earth like a pair of cleats
Sipping on 40 ounces of death
Pouring the liquid corpse for the homies that are left
As he exhales he wonders will this be the final breath
Skeletons inside his closet dying to come outside
To expose all the torture that he laboriously hides
'Inches' of life lingering but his dead 'feets' stretch 'miles' wide
'Bed'-side manner made with blood stained sheets
Draping across the faded pictures of his life and the streets
If you close your eyes and touch your chest....you can still feel his heart
Beat
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