My Uncle Woochie
Woochie, Unk be my name
From The Low long ago
That's The LowEnd, my friend...
... Woochie, bitch!
Woochie don't Woochie don't don't play no games
That's Woochie.
My Uncle Woochie
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.....
