Boys are littered, sagging ‘round the block
slugging by like
there’s no destination in mind
live in the present and make it gleam
new shoes, new ride, new racks
stuck to Boys
Boys stuck to blinging
Boys stuck in the trap;
Boys trapped in the trap
—but Boys trapped in the trap so fuck it!
fuck possibilities of making it out here
clean the look, fresh the style;
compliments at every tile
but Boy, you can make the dirt look wavy
can have trash smell smooth and fresh
but you still stuck in a dump-yard!
yah, but that’s how we live ‘round here
we kin of skin, feel me?
and don’t ever penetrate ‘round here, bruh!
this life been planted and harvested
we Just recycling it, yuh hurd?
strip your spirit bear
bury it with a fleek fit
when you walk this street
“Baby, come in. It’s cold outside…”
Ma’ it’s been cold since the last fall
all hopes withered. So we stop running
the race ‘round here; outta here
walk slowly slightly slanted
ready to dodge what’s coming
chains huggin and cuffin’
that’s all the love we gettin’
pants layering and venting
ready for the heat you bringin’
this trap is much mental, as it is physical
these blocks are aligned, arranged
rearranged one after the other;
they go on forever
so why try to escape?
hands in my pants, feel the cold
metal is my medal that’s how I win
hands in my pants, ready to go too
cells and pens’ in my pocket
that’s my only destination
where else is there to go?
This was inspired by the line, “I was entrapped by the trap with the fact that I’m black” from the song Going Through the Rain by Asoh Black! (Linked below)
Fun fact: That artist and I went to the same high school. He was a cool kid two years above me but I used to brush shoulders with him in the hallway haha. Kid’s going places so keep up with him!
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