when i was young i was a thug
only the streets showed me love
my homeboys rolling up blunts drinking fourties
every saturday we would be in a fight
sometimes guns would be pulled and shot
i went to jail for thirty days it was hell
shooting in a occupied dwelling it was a rap
in jail i fought with the inmates
i was a troubled youth
lost and confused
i thought getting drunk and shooting it out was cool
seen my homeboy get his guts cut out by a hawkbill knife
it almost cost him his life
then i thought to my self where is this getting me beside jail and the grave
i had a change of heart if not for that i would not be here today
mom told me to be wise
but her wisdom i despised
being a thug is not all its cracked up to be
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.