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being a thug isn't what its cracked up to be

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Three years of my life, three of the most molding were my darkest. Dark to only the world due to the installed belief for generations now. But not I. My darkest days started one week before i was coming of age. My 16th birthday. The week i let failure in. I was cool, rugged, and so fast i had not a care in the world. I lived for the drugs, for the wings i grew. "Me against the world" my favorite tupac song also my life's motto. One week before i was 16 i was caught with a gun. 44-magnum revolver. The gun, bigger than any bone in my body. The arresting officer asked what my reason was for having a gun. I slyly replied "for any punk muthaf**** reppin the wrong block, ha-ha and for punk ass police as yourself officer". I went before a judge internally scared externally bold. What i receive might you wonder? merely a slap on the wrist. A year passes and my birthday nears. Again i get caught with a gun. I swear spring time is cursed. But the second time just as the first, a slap. I could do this forever, besides i am a gangsta right? Might you wonder where the parents are. they were there. But they did nothing but cast my wings to my shoulders. Not allowing me to break free. So i go to my real home, the streets. the streets aka my home led me to a third stint with the jim crow laws. I go before the same judge as the times before. But this time he slaps me, no jabs me in my gut. Two years of Oregon youth authority. (OYA)
being a thug isn't what its cracked up to be
the light is blinded by the shine of poverty
my heart at the break of destruction
due to my minds dysfunction
this wise man once said, devouring my mom
but i made it out to be some sad song
plus carrying a gun makes me a man
then a soul i take tormented by this never ending sinking sand
thinking man how alone i came to be
all because i was afraid of the world
judging me
god ARE YOU QUIZING ME



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