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First off this ain’t no “woe is me” tale of me being cold and hungry/

I grew up comfortably/ as a child of the 70’s/

Knick’s jacket on my back/ I think I was 4/ 
My earliest memory/

Of Hip-Hop is when local DJ’s were asking “Who was in the place to be?”

me…/

And the place to be/ for me/ and my family/
was mad narrowly/ and apparently/ systematically designed for blacks to live tragically/

A bum on the corner’s yelling “Welcome to the ghettoooooooooooo!/

Far Rockaway Queens where young boys flash metaaaaaaaaaaal/

My folks would look calm but their hearts were unsettleeeeeeeeeed/

And why wouldn’t they be/

Ronald Reagan’s on the T.V./

Giving orders to the P.D./

To lock-up all niggaz they see/

You will have to excuse me/

That right there didn’t happen till the 80’s/

Right along with crack babies/

Drug dealers in Mercedes/ and other shit to make you crazy/

 
*Sometimes when I’m inspired to write/
 
I want to give a window into my life/
 
But there’s other times where I feel like Naaaaaaaaaaaaahhh… y’all ain’t really ready/
 
Other times I want to grab the mic/
 
And let you know where I learned how to fight/
 
And let y’all know why I live life light/
 
Where I come from is so mufuckin HEAVY/*
 
 
 
 
Gamblers/ Scramblers/ Pimps/ Pushers/ and Dope Fiends/
 
Hustle and Busselers/ addicted to vending machines/
 
Stick-Up Kids/ Cats home from jail bids/
 
Street poets telling it just how it is/
 
Fake Messiahs/ High niggaz that look tired/
 
Hard workers that got fired/ Because of bold face liars/
 
We moved to Hollis like the projects were on fire/
 
Homeless man was yelling “Welcome back to the ghettooooooooooo/
 
Jamaica Ave. Where Crack is cooked inside Kettleeeeeeeeeeees/
 
Made by Pyrex and they also pack metaaaaaaaaaaaaal/
 
And why wouldn’t they pack/
 
There’s so many people dying/
 
There’s so many Mothers crying/
 
There’s so many people trying/
 
Moved to South-side Queens in the 90’s/
 
Guess what/ it was just as grimey/
 
My past doesn’t haunt me/ it reminds me/
 
That surviving is a blessing/ even though I am confessing/ That I’ve had the hardest lessons/
 
 
*Sometimes when I’m inspired to write/
 
I want to give a window into my life/
 
But there’s other times where I feel like Naaaaaaaaaaaaahhh.. y’all ain’t really ready/
 
Other times I want to grab the mic/
 
And let you know where I learned how to fight/
 
And let y’all know why I live life light/
 
Where I come from is so mufuckin HEAVY/*
 
 
GB
 
 


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author/novelist/poet also known as Graffiti Bleu, loves and lives in northern California. He was born in New York City and received some serious game and [learn more]

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