Inspirations
Nothing but dark streets where denizens living up in the park meet
Pondering whether to starve, eat, or just spark leaf
This is what the artists topping the charts speak
But merely through stealing pictures from the real: ghetto art thieves
The dead march, feet tarred and cheeks scarred
And only through the use of arms can they avert harm and reach far
The teen stars pantomime mannerisms like retards
But only know the streets from the back seat of a sleek car
Each part of the puzzle reveals another obstacle
Whether it's cops, rocks, or trips to the hospital
Babies being conceived through visits that are conjugal
And raised face - to - face with the worst existence possible
School provides little, but grounds for conflict
And youth is taught nothing but to be happy as a hostage
Teachers are paid squat then, asked to handle a squadron
Of angry thankless kids, distracted by bullet dodging...
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...Watching the clocks an, debating the path home
Through the maze of paid dropouts just waiting to blast chrome
Remain blind to the signs, and get your ass shown
When you wind up on the concrete bleeding from a cracked dome
They wonder why children tote guns, "Is it for dope funds?"
Some, but mostly they just won't run from their homes...none
Cops won't draw a line between the criminals and victims
'Cause their minds define the sickness of crimes with false symptoms
Social economics combined with skin pigment
And we wonder why young men from the streets are living in prison
To exist in the system, you gotta go against it
Being a good inner city citizen offers you no defenses
The law is only as far as the men who represent it
And bigotry seems to play a bigger part than they'd care to mention
I don't claim to be blind, to someone's shade but I'm tryin
To see the world for what it is, but it takes patience and time
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If I were to say that I never discriminate I'd be lyin
But the first step to truth is in facing this crime
Then replacing the line, that separates into 'kinds'
Fellow humans and embracing integration of minds
This verse ain't about my attempted innovation of rhymes
These are my thoughts on why weak people use race to define
Their own place and rely, on how they were raised to comprise
The outlook mistakenly taken for the shape of their lives
Not only that, but why capitalism's Achilles heel
Those who never had one chance to make 'The Dream' really real
Those who won't resort to killing or steal
And those who will reveal, the desperation's that the nations villains feel
Spin the wheel and hope...
If you're lucky the worst lot drawn will be having to deal by breathing smoke
Sometimes life seems like a fiendish joke
Where the punchily is dying young and seeing Venus choked
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Even the words I just wrote evoke more questions than answers
Hell of a lot of good I do as a professional lesson enchanter
I don't delude myself into perceiving my expressions with grandeur
But in search for the spark of truth, my ignorance is a definite damper...
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There will never be an another Open Mic from Penskills