Street Chronicles

City lights flicker, streets a Picasso,

Brush strokes of chaos, paint the fiasco.

Cobblestone dreams crumble under my sneakers,

Truth blares loud, no need for the speakers.

Boom from the heart, bap in the veins,

Rhythm of the hustle, dancing through the pain.

Concrete jungle, symphony insane,

Echoes of survival in every refrain.

Corner store tales, chips and a Snapple,

Wisdom from the old heads, knowledge like an apple.

Graffiti scriptures, prophets on the wall,

Stories of the rise, and the inevitable fall.

Snare snaps heavy, baseline growl,

Voices in the alley, feral like a howl.

Boom bap anthem, raw like the streets,

A heartbeat eternal where the rhythm meets.

Pigeons on the rooftop, plotting like spies,

Overlook the hustle, truth in disguise.

Baggy jeans sagging, dreams in the seams,

Reality cuts sharp, no room for extremes.

Boom from the heart, bap in the veins,

Rhythm of the hustle, dancing through the pain.

Concrete jungle, symphony insane,

Echoes of survival in every refrain.