opening up and lettin' it out..

opening up and lettin' it out..

Pulling up in a rusty Saab
Fuck wiping off dirt, I'm jus' dusting this off
Cottonmouth cleaning out blood from my scars
Fingers peeling mud from my thoughts to
Size up their meaning and slowly start turning 'em off
Pushin' the gas, taking next turn off this block
Hand on the stereo, twisting, turning it up
Wheels spinning like thoughts and stirring up dust
But it's more than burning rubber, it's therapy
...
Kids talkin' about smoking, internet thugs
14-year-old's who prolly hasn't toked ciggarette-butts
...
I'm from where apartments fit family and thirty cousins
Where people burn that certain sumth'
Where everybody seem t'be working for nothing
Fienders selling TV's to afford their dirty dozens
...
The love of a lifetime, making memories highlight
Looking back at childhood summers remembering every time I
Felt that summer scent that changed to scent of summers went
What I'd give to be young again, spending summers in wonderland
Doin' all the funny things me and my cousins did
From treasure hunts and badminton to nightdips in the ocean and
All of that good stuff I've prolly done for the last time
Chasing shadows in the water and mice through the cracked pipes
Sneaky reading Lucky Luke during nap time
And lurking through woods, fleeing shots through the landmines
...
Maybe it's time to grow up and leave memories past
Celebrate what we had to make the memories last
...
Like living the dream ever was peaches and cream
Life's not based on teeth and palms, I reach for the heat
Keeping it real, whatever keeping it real ever used to be
Educated nigga, like I've ever been tutored, I was tutoring
Made pupils see, dilated, with extended viewpoints
...
Where we come from
Never teeth and palms
People reach for arms
People reaching for razors and people leaving with scars
Live with the dreams of being stars
Beating the odds, flee free from the slums
Living on clouds out of time, decieved by their moms
With the maximum of one son gone to college
Working for paychecks, don't give none for the knowledge
Breaking backs and seem to Work for nothing
Puffing dirty dozens, apartments fitting thirty cousins
Rotten payment goes to weekends and blunting certain somethings
Where every window got their curtains closed and
Every stairwell's graffiti'd out with blurted conscious

rhyme pad shie.. writer's block