Struggle – an excerpt from “Who Eye Am”@ by Akili

We face death on the daily

struggle to survive,

ducking the street sweepers and police,

funded by the same tax payers’ greed.

In my every day, I see genocide,

Afrika ain’t across the sea.

Loss g-money, snake and B-brazy

all in the summer of ’93.

Neva feared death

‘cause it’s all we guaranteed

in this white man’s world

we ain’t pose to make it pass 19.

Too drunk to give a fuck,

too high to cry, numb inside,

lovely smoke, the only water

that’ll baptize me.

Inglewood born, Inglewood raised,

when I die, bury me in

Centinela Park Cemetery

B.I.P., rep’n DBZ

Bang’N IFG.

It ain’t prophecy, miss me wit

the praying and church lies

go get them fools who Tupac’ed me,

inner city madness,

a STD─ Struggle-till-Death,

that’ll kill that ass

faster than full blown

AIDS did Easy E.