Final Words

The sky don't seem quite as blue as it did when I was a kid and the clouds are darker

Had so much to give, now days I struggle with what to offer

The chapters are getting bleaker sometimes I question the author

My heart was a drum the world treated that shit like Travis Barker

A permanent marker target on me and my people

I was taught that it's not the skin but the heart that is equal

I was taught that it's not the language it's not the culture or clothes

It's the honor that makes a person it's lacking now I suppose

Simpler days, white owls, hanging out with my bros

Freestyling discussing life and the questions bout it we'd pose

A young boy in Gaza's favorite song is one that I composed

As he listens off his brother's phone and the concrete hits his toes