Tryna Get By

I’m from the E.L.O.,
Where them Jersey boys come to move that hairo,
And us Native’s move that blow that soft or bubbled,
Mainly cause our economy is so troubled,
You still ask why?
Too many lies and too many cries,
So now we tryna cash in these Ohio State Buckeyes,
Ain’t no future in the front,
It’s cash and carry,
Cause this cavi we distribute is more pure than the Virgin Mary,
We tryna change our scenery,
With this California greenery,
Yeah we’re aware of the penalties for the chronic and mids,
Sixty to One-hundred and twenty months doing those federal bids,
Mr. Obama we’re so tired of selling dope,
But even in the summer time our streets are a constant slippery slope,
I don’t mean from snow or ice,
But from shit that can make you lose your life,
Enemies or poverty,
Plagues that the upper class never see,
Unless their watching HBO specials like On The Corner or The Wire,
You think that’s just Baltimore,
Shit all our streets are on fire,
Everyday it’s a war zone,
Where we fight to get the last piece of chicken off a malnourished bone,
Literally speaking,
Our neighborhoods are reeking,
With filth and pollution,
Then the only hand that was offered,
Drug distribution,
So see really we had no choice,
Even as I right this poem my eyes are moist,
Not just from sorrow,
But from promises that continue to be hollow,
Maybe that’s why,
Everyday us brothers are willing to die,
Just to try and get by,
We do this out of necessity and extenuating complexities,
So before you try and profile a stereotype,
I’ll tell you,
This poetry’s non-fiction,
This shit is my life,
Society says honesty is the best policy,
So why should I lie,
Everything I do,
Is cause I’m tryna get by.