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"Compton's son, L.A.'s Boiz" revamped
Sweat rolls down his cheek
A mid summers night heat,
tense with emotion.
Memories of younger days
of hunger pains he could not quench
He's made his vows.
Thrown in his lot with those who take.
Take what they want
The only chill is the cold steel
harbored against his back
His soldiers weapon
a comfort against the fear
A coolness against the heat of the night.
the streets of Compton are his jungle.
The alleys his trenches
He remembers the hunger.
That unquenched nagging of his youth
Like a tiger it waits to return.
So he does what he must to hold the beast at bay.
He Never forgets the pain of hunger.
always just one pounce away.
His eyes squint against the coming light.
The carriage of the night conveys friend or enemy,
He doesn't know.
His path was laid before him,
brothers told him.
The man will pay, pay much for his product.
The man will come into his domain.
come into his jungle to taste
the fruit.
He was four years old
when his fathers blood ran cold
Cold in the trench of the alley's
stench. This was told he never knew him.
still the boy in him strives to be.
The hunger of his early years a nightmare.
The nagging in his gut, a protest of his station.
No, he wants the bling. He wants to shine to smile the golden
smile to make his moms proud.
But his blood will run cold, like his fathers and brothers.
the lights will come, spitting fire from
their sides. His blood will run cold.
Painting the street beneath him.
Like his fathers like his brothers.
A hungry young child will touch the blood.
His path laid before him.
He will see the beast, a challenge made.
And one day his blood will run cold.
__________________
 " Imagine if all you ever did was kill for God. What kind of being would you be? An Angel sword dripping, your wings always dipped in blood.....Imagine."
Last edited by Gate : 04-14-2008 at 12:17 AM.
Reason: rewrite
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