Da Struggle

By JP

Kids starving, momma nodding and pops foreign
These are the broken homes that most of us were born in
No food, no heat and no water
This here is poverty where life expectancy is much shorter
No shoes, holey clothes and runny noses
In a place where praying is unheard of and who is Moses?
Prostitutes, drug dealers and cold killers
Doing errands for them so I can eat is all I remember
Birthdays was the worst day
We had to steal out of stores when we was thirsty
They say that it ain’t no love for the wicked
But don’t judge us, life chose us—we didn’t pick it
Surrounded by steel gates non of them pickets
It’s like we were raised for jail; I don’t get it
Kids getting used, molested and abused
Wearing long sleeves to school to hide the bruise
M.O.B a lot of dudes say they live by the rules
And the young girls think it’s cute but they are so confused
But I love where I’m from, don’t get it misconstrued
Even back when my lil bro was crying from hunger
And I ain’t know what to do
A couple of years later and it still draws emotions from you
And it’s still taking our young men to jail by the bundles
I’m a proud survivor of our world that we call the jungle
And even when I get old and rich I’ll always remember “da struggle”