by Zamounde the Footstepper

Feel like Iím behind a one-way mirror

Wanting you to see me

You are not aware of my era

So I yell and pound the glass

Feel like holleriní

Too much built up inside of me

So I spit

Free ainít easy

Enslaved to the time

Slowly moving me rapidly tormenting

My hometown hood been torn down before me

Now standing on bones of lost souls

Casino dreams and rich man schemes

Looks like soup in a bowl

I donít know what it use to be

My eyes really donít see

Hearts in my head

Pounding thoughts instead

Piss stains in the bed

From early years


Old now still here


Should I be ashamed of the truth?

Head of household taxed

Who tacked on this roof?

Section 8ís not a part of a book

But it is, bittersweet

Kisses - no candy to eat

To hate comes easy

Love- no two in the home

Many children though

Bills screaminí pay me now

Never quit she bows

On knees

To manager demands

Hired for a second part-time

Blowing head in the park to please

Caught by eyes of a youth on bike passiní by

Pictured as a tool

Fighting against bent rules

That let you get your way

By way of loss esteem

Killiní time with smokes

Weekend tilt high with Bose

Corned flaked toes

A smile or two in between woes

Hear screams under pillows at night

Dreams that bite

What theÖWhat now!

Awoke to sirens and confused lights

People in underwear drapes

Half asleep/half awake

In the mist of screams from a child

Cops subdue anyone who runs their mouth

Who done gave up their city rights?

Slum- you betta run

Feel like holleriní

Donít know what this is

Man walks by looking gooder than a woman

For a secí

Is this world f-ed up with specks?

ĎCause itís hot up in here

Brainwaves swell

Anger boiled

But ice never melts

Stories to tell

By windows with ears

But no oneís listeniní

Only head nods to fodder

Lost and misguided fathers

Snow ainít pretty when it glistens city stains

Pipe dreams-graffiti

On old buildings

1960 stains on ceilings

2003ís here quick but simmering like slavery yesterday

Nothingís changed but me

Too many in my face

Ask what-do what- what theÖ

I need a break

My memories swimming up stream

All in me- fish like memories

Skimming dreams off cake like treats

Whatís left is me, you

Stretched rubber-busted beats

Abortions happen daily mentally

HUD one two three my cribís the streets

Furnace donít give in

Cold up in here

No oneís full of fear


Elevated by stairs

Footsteps in the mind

Someoneís coming in here

Drips, heart skips

Reality bent

Who wants some of this?

Paranoid but no android

These thoughts

From incinerators flow

Truths and dares

Human flares

The donít know stare

Welcome to the classroom

How hard is it to care

Old man passes by my car at a light

Stops to stare at me

Froze/paused the Green

First things first

Unchosen-Rose in stems off the streets

Can you hear me?

Picked up like an old Hi-Fi needle spinniní

Dust accumulatiní

Still kickiní sound

But for a moment turned it down

Whatís yo prob! Betta get to steppin old man

But then I thought maybe he had a moment

Something I reminded him of deep down memory lane

A scratched record in his mind

Maybe I was someone from his past

Maybe he picked up on some energy

I donít know

Donít mistake me for a foe!

Switched him to 78 as I jetted on my way

Final credit hourís the longest on the clock

Finally got lifeís degree

Over here (Germany) they call niggas Gypsies

Ghettos don't seem that hard

Cut pockets picked by organized packs

Minds still heavy with rocks

This is where I stop to toss my cap into the air


Holla! by Zamounde the Footstepper

© Copyright 2002. 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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