DrugLord Superstar

Tony Montana, Frank Lucas, Bumpy Johnson, careful colorful characters on the silver screen…big time drug dealers, or numbers running

Your dreams: your aspirations, life as you know it poverty from your lonely Bronx tenement

Rap songs spit out the lyrics of money sex and power, your small mind taking in and controlled

Your dreams: your aspirations, life as you know it poverty from your lonely Bronx tenement

Late eighties and crack is king on every street corner, while dime bags wrapped in small brown bags are handed off so quickly, you barely notice that your family is holding down the blocks surrounding Yankee stadium.

The life as you know it poverty from your lonely Bronx tenement

High school has you steady, the streets are calling you to conform; baggy pants, same broken Spanish, and want to be thug attitude, repeated from the kid in strong stance on the number 5 – 2 or 6 train.

The life as you know it poverty from your lonely Bronx tenement

You’re tall, skin caramel like fresh honey, hazel eyes that tell lies and make the young girl drop panties every so quickly … but no babies for mama to raise – as you run off to the navy,(air force) a sweet savior

However some young boy had already tested your manhood…

Years in tight quarters, small home to share with wifey, little girl on the way, life is regular

However the boys still throw the promise of a new car at’cha

Returning to the Bronx, bruised but not broken: the happy family life didn’t workout… but you learned to play the role, push at both sides, keep the spider in the web

However some young boy had already tested your manhood…

And now you put all that you have learned to work, the smile, the low key speech, letting things come to you, never asking for too much – thus the KING of the BLOCK

The life as you know it poverty from your lonely Bronx tenement

Tony Montana whanna be drug lord of the concourse, sweet angel at work in midtown and lower eastside

The life as you know it poverty from your lonely Bronx tenement

 

Quoted, movies lines fill your head, rap songs of sex – bitch gave you head in a burger king bathroom…  Smile to it all, always leaving the door open “maybe” is the tattoo on your right arm, giving anyone a chance to see and touch, what you think is priceless?

This mask you wear hides your truth, the face of ghetto deception

Standing over 6’4, your size is stop n think, you position lifestyle to read as: easy, humble, open and trust… but you words tell a story that one must look for.

This mask you wear hides your truth, the face of ghetto deception

He looks like one of you: Rodriguez, Perez, Morales, with a slight difference to his dress code

This mask you wear hides your truth, the face of ghetto deception

A trip to the tombs, 2 kids and 2 babies mamas, makes you one in the same… selling drugs of choice and lost in pussyland every time a new phat ass becomes the next “fool”

This mask you wear hides your truth, the face of ghetto deception

A new gig, no need to pretend just say nothing, smile cause “we always good” blazing 2 and 3 at a time, idle hands never, keeping everyone in play so the choice is yours

This mask you wear hides your truth, the face of ghetto deception

Mirror to Frank Lucas, you got men on the streets of south Bronx, seen by the boys in the barber shop as the kid doin good, nice job downtown – but the secrets hide deep within your iphone

Sometimes you have to give a little… to get a Little

Always adding pages to your biography someone has taught you well, you keep you image sharpe and the word in the hood, low and easy

Sometimes you have to give a little… to get a Little

Today your running like a slave back in the days, after months of lies told threw your white smile, business on hold once again kid, thinkin not giving a fuck perception is key
Same 'ol. - keep your head
Nothing can seem out if place

A bronx Tale…
Once she tried to take your baby girl, Quem é que você realizou para baixo

turned to  cry on a shoulder, the grand performance, the beginning and the end, as you struggle to keep it low, what I now see is ordinary Old game, Same yellow boy, A new date on the calendar.

 

 

(c) C Cory March 17/13