Last dance
• Written by DrummaBoi
Posted on the block, same hoodie for a week,
Seen my first body, couldn’t even sleep.
Twelve hit the corner, had to ditch the heat,
Ain’t no happy endings when you play these streets.
Shorty caught a case, he was only sixteen,
Judge threw the book, gave him twenty, no dream.
Mama had tears, couldn’t say a thing,
He was tryna ball, now he shackled to a chain.
I remember cold nights, ramen in the pot,
No food in the crib, but we still had Glocks.
Opps slid through, tried to spin my block,
We came right back, two shooters, one shot.
This ain’t rap, boy, this real life pain,
Funerals weekly, I remember they names.
Had to keep movin’, can’t go insane,
If I fall now, who gon’ carry my name?
This ain’t no movie, no lights, no fame,
Just blood on the leaves and a heart full of flame.
I done lost bros, I done lost trust,
Only thing left is this iron I clutch.
Real ones gone, fake ones live,
It don’t make sense, but it is what it is.
I came from the mud, no fairy tales,
Just a Glock and a prayer if I go to jail.
I just tell it how it is, you feel me?
We ain’t make it out for nothin’...
Had to earn every scar.
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About the Artist
DrummaBoi
Member since March 5 2024