Thursday, April 5, 2012

Drama




                                A little bit of attitude

Another sister impregnated
Another accidental product of a mindless twosome.
Another brother incarcerated
Politicians they call us the modern Sodom.
Now we got a new barbershop around the corner
Thanks to the system college dropout increasingly normal.
The streets are more or less unsafe
We on the bloody failure’s backtrail.
They call life a picnic
While the ghetto kid’s rationing meals.
The essence of power they abusin’
We workin’ our souls sick
They busy talkin’ sh*t.

Have a young chap share his thoughts on the future
He’ll lay it on you it’s a defect of nature
He was ever born or preserved by nurture.
Can you picture the dilemma?
Situation’s full of drama like King’s Dreamcatcher.
It’s hanging way all up over our heads
Holding on to nothing but a strand of hair.
We await the promise of a ghetto miracle.

If you never been to this side of the line
You ain’t know what it means to survive.
It’s like sweet goodbyes and sad hellos.
Still a ghetto star’s never known to compromise.
In the ghetto, it’s like we locked up
Ya’ll in the hood and everything’s just clogged up:

Mama’s got a trade,
Papa’s got a spade,
Big brother’s got a shaving blade
Oh, and that’s for the barbershop.
Little sisters weaving braids
And now you know what’s up.
Politicians spitting heresies
Mouthing murderous blasphemies
But seriously, no one’s seen their taillights recently.
Society inflicting pain on bleeding injury.

My homes subjected to penury
The government ya’ll penny pinching.
Ghetto children sinking
I know some defeats’ more triumphant than victory.
We intend to change the situation
Consequences of the impasse,
Yes, we can. We full of ammunition
Redirecting our energies like a compass.
The tragedy won’t come to pass.

Got the masses
Chewing grasses
Sweating their a**es
Rulers making passes
Let’s skip these classes.
The program’s busted
Me and my crews the most wanted.
The charge?...
Gang related.
Trying to get us annihilated.
Well you know they say,
Don’t sweat it.
Raised in the ghetto for dilemma,
The nation ain’t helping matters.
We feel a hunger for survival.
The pressure’s
Way beyond measure.

If you believe we was the future
How come we ain’t treasured?
I’m burning my brains out
Trying to find the way out
It’s hard to stay on the grind
I’m freaking out on the inside.
Picture the tears in the kid’s eyes
Yet, hypocrites entertain us with lies.
Waddup in this mother?
Don’t know ‘bout chu but we call it, drama.



Akpan

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