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
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