[Verse 1]
He was
Cutting corners and counting quarters back before the
Color changed from Cabrini Green to money white
White money can change race to save face in
Any area, burying it, it's funny right?
Back to the story, no glory, he was just getting by
Living conditions deplorable, he was sittin sideways in a bed with a few loose springs, bouncing around with a few loose dreams, he
Couldn't focus, just hoping for hocus pocus, smoking potent cuz it really isn't hard to acquire
He would
Wait for his brother's recovery, cuz his father and mother was never home and when they was he was high
Recover from what? It's funny you ask, nobody else did, they always kinda hoped he was good
But the hero of our story or, rather, our allegory was about as good a kid as can be found in his hood
His name was Brandon and his brother was prone to asthma attacks
It was moldy in the crib and his dad smoked half a pack on the daily when he was home, probably more when he wasn't
Would smoke a full pack but they was cheaper by the dozen, so it goes
He wanted out, Lord knows. He could chill with cartoons for about 4 shows, he was only 16 when his dreams came knocking, this the tale of a man who sold snow for his soul
But his story stands apart from the collective
So it really ain't complete unless it's told from his perspective
[Verse 2]
I took the 9 off of Ashland to 95th with a sack in my backpack of the packages I had flipped, I
Liked to keep a reminder that I was coming up
Not to mention proof of the interest that I was drumming up
I closed my bag as my fingers rustled the plastic, and watched the time pa** at the front of the bus
I felt adrenaline course, of course, polo horse galloped on my chest as my sentiments were running amok
What if I listened to the teachers pops said I could trust instead of listening to n***as say I wouldn't be much
I probably wouldn't be pulling the cord stopping the bus cuz if I let my talent go then I'd have to erupt
I watched the doors fly open, tripped off of the curb, then dipped to the alley around the block behind the computer shop
I checked my shoulder, watched the sign colors change in in the end of my peripherals I saw a commuting cop
I jumped
As my phone vibrated, I remembered I had Tyson to tutor fighting with whooping cough
Figured maybe I could turn, then I learned that leaving ain't that easy when I heard a siren going off
I turned my head, saw a motion in my direction and quickly advanced the alley, a customer my complexion was posted right at the end of the block, I followed suit till I, heard a crash and felt a steel toe boot collapse my back, vision went black and that bag that I packed was snatched off of my arms
I felt the phone ring as my ears did once more
As an, unmistakeable click evened the score
Bang