This poem was writin in a ruff part of my life, where I was in love and doing alotta wrong things. The girl I was with at the time loved me for me but hated the things I did to put food on the table.
She keeps telling me I’m choosing the thug life over our relationship
Asking why I always have a pistol on my hip
All I can say is we have to eat don’t we
I have no other choose cant you see But no matter what I know me and my people will eat
Never falling down but if I do always making sure I get back on my feet
My people on the streets feel what I’m saying
But at the end of the night she knows next to her in the bed is where I’m laying
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