Mean mugs,A blunt,And,A Yankees fitted.Living in the projects with heat tucked,And,An arm full of bad bitches.Sipping on a 40 ounce of Budweiser,While pitching drugs hoping to climb up from rags to riches...It's what He sees on concourse,Claiming to be King,Bridging the gap between an escape from a con torn,From paradise found in a dollar to... Continue Reading →
Rootz Of A Lost Bronx Child – Freewrite #38
Had to take a minute to sit down and reflect on my state of mind hoping I can get to know myself a little bit more. Because, as much as I love to write my heart away, my palms itch for some difference. Something to take my eyes away from memories I'm sick of replaying... Continue Reading →