Truth

Memory is to vivid Just to keep buried in a bag of bones Addicted to the prisoners That accumulates prisons Blacks are explicit but divergent Wonder why parents are so timid Mimic the streets And the youth gets beat We see the steel first No reason why we carrying our sistas and brothas in a hearse Tired of being tired Worser the depression Longer the noose Tired of the house hold abuse But the victim still gets treated like a animal The storm we go through is for a reason But most don't get to live The truth doesn't get noticed Unless the eviction letter is noted