ain't nothing but a death hole,
Sending me straight to the grave
everytime i turn around,
people are speaking upon my name
Isn't nothing like home,
where someone is waiting to be held.
My mooma told the streets
is not a game to play.
But i took a chance anyway,
the same day the bullet took
Now i restin peace
in the coffin that i lay.
Because of the bullet that came my way
And maybe now you'll understand
that the streets isn't a game to play.
Share This Poem