“You got a lot of living to do before you die
And you ain't got time to waste”
This a rap song about a man who was shot nine times
and flaunts being a gangsta as if it was his career choice.
A lot of gangstas die where they came from
In the streets!!
So every time you tell me to let you live
I’m going to assume that your definition of living
Is you killing your dreams one brain cell at a time
You rummage through the rubble like a fiend
For a couple dollars to get your fix
You have burned down this house
Every time you light a spliff
When I look at your writings onBrooklyn brick walls
I hear frequencies from the radio playing a depressing song
You’re painting a picture of insecurities
Marking your territory
‘5o”was here.
You change your self and try to fit in
I guess you’re trying to win
But I see the sadness behind your rebellion
And you lose
Sagging your pants and becoming a an identical zombie
Dipped in polo like the rest of them
No job where is this money coming from
Listening to Wiz as he drowns out intelligence with marijuana smoke
You take steps of a giant in the wrong direction
You have exchanged books for the hood
No knowledge
This is the war between jail and college
You don’t like jail bars
But your jail bound
You tear the heart away of the woman who loved u from day one in the womb
Do you think you’re a man?
When you push your mother out the way
And shove yourself to the streets
Where did your heart go?
I really don’t know when your innocence turned into stone
Please pick up your son from the 75th precinct
There’s a hole in the cemetery with your name on it
Sadly we are just waiting when to put you in it
Because you’re just a couple heartbeats away from death
You say” let me live”
But you’re barely living
Half asleep half alive
Walking zombie
Because little brother your chasing your demons
Right to the grave
What’s become of your sanity?
You exchange reality for drugs
When will you stop using mathematical knowledge for drug transactions?
When will my little brother come back?
Because sometimes when the phone rings
Chills creep on me
And I fear when I pick it up
That the voice at the other end of the line
Says “ Mam your little brothers dead”
And I said it once and ill say it again
“You got a lot of living to do before u die, and you aint got time to waste”
By Lina Gonzalez
And you ain't got time to waste”
This a rap song about a man who was shot nine times
and flaunts being a gangsta as if it was his career choice.
A lot of gangstas die where they came from
In the streets!!
So every time you tell me to let you live
I’m going to assume that your definition of living
Is you killing your dreams one brain cell at a time
You rummage through the rubble like a fiend
For a couple dollars to get your fix
You have burned down this house
Every time you light a spliff
When I look at your writings on
I hear frequencies from the radio playing a depressing song
You’re painting a picture of insecurities
Marking your territory
‘5o”was here.
You change your self and try to fit in
I guess you’re trying to win
But I see the sadness behind your rebellion
And you lose
Sagging your pants and becoming a an identical zombie
Dipped in polo like the rest of them
No job where is this money coming from
Listening to Wiz as he drowns out intelligence with marijuana smoke
You take steps of a giant in the wrong direction
You have exchanged books for the hood
No knowledge
This is the war between jail and college
You don’t like jail bars
But your jail bound
You tear the heart away of the woman who loved u from day one in the womb
Do you think you’re a man?
When you push your mother out the way
And shove yourself to the streets
Where did your heart go?
I really don’t know when your innocence turned into stone
I’m tired of seeing cold metal cuffs hugged up tightly to your wrists
Sadly you’re adding to the list
Of minorities failing victims to these ghetto streets
Every Fb status I see is followed by
“Free my boy…..”
Please that is what I want to see!
Young brother
I want you to free your self
From these chains
I want you to free yourself of the mold they put on Hispanic young men
I’m tired of putting on the news and hearing News reporters say
“A young Hispanic young man allegedly accused of illegal guns., rape robbery etc…
This list can go on
I’m tired of police asking “Was he black was he Hispanic”?
Free your selves’ young brothersFree yourself from peer pressure
Free yourself from these restrains that keep holding you back
Free your mind with knowledge
Ignorance is not bliss
Our fathers did not leave third world countries
To raise criminals
They came here for a better life
Our people is better than that
And we are so tired of getting that callPlease pick up your son from the 75th precinct
There’s a hole in the cemetery with your name on it
Sadly we are just waiting when to put you in it
Because you’re just a couple heartbeats away from death
You say” let me live”
But you’re barely living
Half asleep half alive
Walking zombie
Because little brother your chasing your demons
Right to the grave
What’s become of your sanity?
You exchange reality for drugs
When will you stop using mathematical knowledge for drug transactions?
When will my little brother come back?
Because sometimes when the phone rings
Chills creep on me
And I fear when I pick it up
That the voice at the other end of the line
Says “ Mam your little brothers dead”
And I said it once and ill say it again
“You got a lot of living to do before u die, and you aint got time to waste”
By Lina Gonzalez
No comments:
Post a Comment