by Goldie

I'm a young brother from way down south,
And I speak my damn mind,
Feelings deep down some try to conceal,
In me you'll never find,
Our stereotype of instability,
That we brought upon ourselves,
Is being packed away by brothers like me,
And put back on the shelves,
Now in my past a disagreement,
Would bring on a violent rage,
Forcing my mind to keep moving back,
Instead of turning the page,
And I saw within this violent rage,
Is where the problem hid,
Now I hit you with intense verbal abuse,
That makes you wish I did,
For all of the times I lost my cool,
Consequences I dealt with never,
And then someone was taken from me,
That I thought would live forever,
As my rock was taken,
Releasing my rage,
With four loud menacing blasts,
My mind reacted instead of my body,
So this cycle would not last,
And I've reached a level I thought was dead,
For now I know what to say,
I can leave the gun,
Unclench my fist,
As I turn and walk away,
And they're millions of brothers just like myself,
So stand back and you won't get hit,
Cause we refuse to settle for less,
And definitely don't take no shit!!!,
So when a young brother tries to talk to you,
And you figure he just don't know,
Relax your head for a few short ticks,
And contemplate his flow,
For when that brother enlightens your mind,
Rising it from a fallen slumber,
You'll see age for what it really is,
Just a muthafuckin number!!,
Believe that!

Young by Goldie

© Copyright 1998. All rights reserved. No portion of this work may be duplicated or copied without the expressed written consent of the author.

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