That when homie got hit with the stray
I saw his white polo go blood red
From a plain K Swiss to a graphic tee
Later the courtroom was it's own tragedy
No justice just grand gestures made by jesters
So the hate in his mother's heart
It grows and festers
Word is she just sits by the window
With a coffee in her hand she hasn't drank for days
She whispers but nobody can hear what she's saying
Some say she mumbles
Others swear she's praying
I'm not sure myself
But I know something about survival
Day to daying
Show her the light!!!!
Show her the fight!!!
dtr.
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