Black Poetry : Streets & Love (Anybody Colab) Poetry Cypher

[Tantrum]

I will start it for anyone to add one
This will be like a chain reaction type of thing
See if you can keep up with my flow



My streets like death was home grown
Psss(Piss) ants/aunts crying for there babies, but they dead gone
Silent cries hold midnight alibies
Like late night victims tell-i-vise (televised)
Most p-pill (people) and shoot up for all there sins
Hookers at the point sell there souls 4 bottles of gin
Life is like vapors I can cant count them 5 to 10
My love for the streets-weight/wait these are my sins


keep this poetry cypher going

 

[soulful2006]

Ah but home is where my heart is even though
my home is broken
Money leaving and drugs comin in
I can't seem to see past that cycle
My folks don't know em no more cause they passed out on the floor
And I keep tellin myself I can't live like this
No more
But every time i think I can leave somebody
Dies that's close to me
And I promise not to leave until
They see peace on the other side for me
I see these people i feel these streets
And they hold tight
SO tight that they won't let go of me
Oh how I would love to be set free

 

[Tantrum]

free from dispare and hatred I see on the block
smashed piped winter dreams and im talking about the rock/
Or is it the semi automatic glock
So many of my people die for-when there heads start to knock/
And woman instigate fights like chicken heads flock
Now everybody thug life living dreams of a 2-pac/
I was born with two nuts-a big pipe and some tube socks
Barely afford living-door held together with pad-locks/
I remember sugar water no kool-aid on days hot
Time is of the essense live your life by the tick-tock/

 

[Keita Kenyatta]

Yea, and I remember you, trynna move hard,
baby in this world callin yourself God,
Slave mentality callin get on board.
Ain't got no time fo ghetto stories, ghetto worries,
snow flake flurries.
So here's ya flow to keep ya packin,
buttermilk babies who think they packin,
genius unknown I think ya slackin,
like jimmy pop corn I think ya crackin.

 

[Tantrum]

ur face like blak on black tint
thats 5 percent for you god
and u the neighborhood housewife
thats why your wife use to flirt with me god
all ur pointless antics hold no self being
life worth pumper-ur-"nickels" change ur faith god
use to have a website now I have a career
ur website is done like david allen grier
and homie next time ur poetry better be good
the closet you got to snow flakes was watchin "boyz n the hood"