A Notebook Piece

Just a lil something from my notebook...

I lay back, close my peepers teeth connect a smile
in my breath i let out the buddha grinnin like i just left the isle
but jersey is where im risen my mind in prisms,
never prison praying my next 24 i'll escape the system
keep my gaze on sunny days in this land ya'll i stand tall
think about little shorties duckin they curfew for a extra game of handball
little brothers struggling droppin out on a fast track
moppin where they used to learn but im lookin past that
reactin to tech shit the wrong look could get you wet kid
in a time where all it take is the right southern connect to get big
just look at the Dubya he on to score im on to more
no matter if u vote or not its still crack vials at the corner store
brothers get it like c&c's in a sea of theives
mistep and u lost respect, the cost is debt, killas round here'll off ya neck
its a mockery we gone make it? probably not
little girls got they eyes on ball players while playin the dollar lottery
shots is all thats heard at night murders like the sound of the block
a parked car the only thing keepin you from surroundings of chalk
the blunt is pounding my thought envision butlers to carry my things
sippin stolen heinekens with my mind again on caviar dreams
from where kids aint the only ones who toss a toy
reality set in it made you lost ya joy you lost a boy?
you shed a fear you had better not shed a tear
them heads who caught ya nigga got triggas to put u in shed in the rear
all of what you heard is fact a murder rap
aint longer then the money of the block runners call it urban track
fuck a myth its urban fact you heard it black
where niggas you used to know stuck up a store and left the clerk's turban tapped
but the word is that they aint cop a bid
you happy till you lil scrappy dont want no problems wit revolvers waitin to rock ya wig
its rotten kid the streets is hard i got a theivin squad
block bosses who rock crosses but none of us believe in god
some of them in son and daughter shit curbs and corners at night to slaughter kids
they storin bricks tossin tricks pullin gats over Jordan's kicks
Its 7:30 dirty niggas carry gats
blast on little girls disrespectin scotch hoppin to miss marry mack
and thats very fact let you react now cease
till next time i hit you gotta say im out, PEACE!

1luv.

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up up uppin, elevation is key, 1luv.

Real shit. It's somethin i could really feel. U had the good rhymes and good multis wit ome vocab and some creativty......but i guess it wouldn't be if u really lived it, it's just part of ya life. But uh. it was real nice and i enjoyed. Peaceezy 1luv.

^Good look on the feed, ima return favors, uppin, 1luv.

ll reply eventually homeboy

this was aight flowed ok you had some nice lines in there..i would just shortin some lines here in there but overall is was good keep it up

it was alright, it flowed good and had some good structure. there was alot a good vocab use.

from where kids aint the only ones who toss a toy
reality set in it made you lost ya joy you lost a boy?
you shed a fear you had better not shed a tear
them heads who caught ya nigga got triggas to put u in shed in the rear
all of what you heard is fact a murder rap
aint longer then the money of the block runners call it urban track
fuck a myth its urban fact you heard it black
where niggas you used to know stuck up a store and left the clerk's turban tapped

thats my fav part throughout the whole thing, i dont know why, but it jus is