Ghettolandscapes

My Uncle Woochie

Woochie, Unk be my name

From The Low long ago

That's The LowEnd, my friend...

... Woochie, bitch!

Urban ghetto landscapes scraped me early in my youth

Mama kissing the wounds with Supreme Loving

But there I was again, off and running

Ducking crooked cops sworn to put a stop to young hard rocks like us,

Sporting our caps cocked

Deep to the right creeped through the night stomachs uptight

Seeing, with no sight

Blind, in other words

Lifestyle absurd

"GD until the world blow up" was our plighted word

Fighting in herds and never landing a solid punch

Systematically subjugated

Our lives we negated

In Chicago and segregated

We never knew other races until our visits to the Audy Home

Butt naked and dethroned from our project home

Not much was familiar

Trying times

The frames of minds we shattered as we constructed ones new

With questions of who is who in regards to you and I

And why, locked in this cell with nothing but books to read

Breaking down every word of the Chairman's creed

My goal is to achieve

To walk it is to bleed

So I write and I read

I write and I read

I write and I bleed

Words being emitted from punctures through storms

Awakening greatness of you to let your story be told

Don't let your blackened blues cause you to misconstrue your affinity to the red black and green

Or deferred dreams drowning in spoiled American Cream

Niggativity holding us down like gravity

It's takes Effort to restore sanity.

Peace to Mr. Hoover

Chief Malik

And all the voices voicing through me

Slain soldiers and warriors yet to come

Transposing what currently be.....