EASY ROAD

It's not an easy road, how many see the glamour and the glitter so then think a bed of rose:  (These roads be hard and most often cold) Who feels it knows, oooh lord help me reclaim my soul.

Stories unfold bold on the killing fields of life, I live on lies because the truth is like an unfaithful wife, smiling before gouging out your eyes with a dull rusty knife.  Still I try to keep my eyes on the prize and rise above theses hard roads and not hear the ghetto baby cries that constantly day and night rise from the land of the American rejects; best known as my neighborhood projects, where no cops actually serve and only the dope dealers and lifetime residents protects.

Still even though these streets stink like shit when it gets hot we congregate on these corners anyway, smoking weed and drinking beer every day, playing look out for my man with the indo laced hash, the hole in the wall is where he keeps his stash, that crazy chick up in 9c be holding his gat and his cash, and those be her sisiters kids playing in the trash.

Lost travelers ride through here with there faces frozen in shock and I'm thinking they must have thought everybody in America owned some microsoft stock, but even though we can be eviceted at any moment with all of our shit out on the street we still walk like we got feilds of four leaf clovers growing beneath our feet, and the roses out here be strong black sisters that grew through the concrete, proudly ridin in a hoopdee wit her baby daddy smoking newports and knodding her head to a fat ass hip hop beat, constantly checking his pager because she knows he be playing tricks with them other chicks but she can't seem to figuer out that 511 code,  still she holds him down anyway, because she knows, it's not an easy road, how many see the glamour and the glitter and them think a bed of rose,  see she would rather be with than without him because he's always there when the nights get cold< I'ts not an easy road.

Qadir Shabazz