Untitled
He was a soldier,
He was a rider,
Always down for his hood.
He was a top notch gansta
And got all the respect,
That he should.
But he was also a
Uncle,
And a father.
And didn't deserve
What he got.
But with the odds all against him
He choose the only
Path that he knew.
And even though I miss him
And cry because he's gone.
I know he's in a better place
Where that street life don't belong.
Copyright © Mercedes Terry | Year Posted 2006
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