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.