Born to die before I came out thee womb
I was born not to know good
Grew up on hard times, that’s why I spit hard rhymes
Age five, diabetic on a mission
To finish my vision
Knocked out twice; they tried to stop my life twice
Umbilical cord around my neck to keep my foes on their feet
Still not in defeat
Choked to death to welcome me to my new home
Bust my forehead to get stitches
Messed up my leg twice to show my enemies I’m still here
I feel so high, I’m not even smoking
Skipping school because they want me to
Needles in my body everyday
I wear my pride on my chest so you can see me
Make pictures with no paint
Don’t be surprised to see me right by you
On thee street corner
I’m just like you
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