Diary of a thug

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Diary of a thug

Diary of  a thug

It all started when I can’t find a job as youth, and I was only 22

My mother lost her job  and my father died long past,

Landlord kicked us to the street ,

My mother decided to go back to homelands,

“Mama, relax, I will make sure I will take care of you and my two other siblings,

No matter what, I will provide for you, go and stay in homelands”

That’s how I have promised my mother,

And I faced the city street life, with no one to cry to,

Or no one to turn to or shoulder of rest,

Two years later my mother died and I lost all hopes,

Until I give my whole life to the street,

Thinking of my two brothers I always cried all night,

Waking up everyday from under the bridge to firms,

Firm to firm not getting luck of real jobs,

I have to provide for my two brothers with all piece jobs money,

One night I was crying alone, I was not paid but I worked  a month long,

This guy came and give me shoulder to cry on, and I felt warm welcome,

I lost all hopes on working,

Me and him, we merged,

“He was a thug.”

 

Life is tough, tough here on the street,

Waking up with empty stomach,

Hunger is like a razor in the stomach,

Still thinking the plans to start a day,

Not sure you will be dead or alive by the end of the day,

Not in the night thinking whether you will see the next day or not,

Hustle, hustle, hustle to find,

Death be the last to come in mind,

Snatch, hijack, steal, and all negative,

Victims thought I am crazy,

Yes I am crazy to provide,

Life is tough here on the street,

Not when I think that I have to provide for my two brothers,

Booze in high places with beautiful ladies I like too,

Too much crazy when I think cost of huge clothing brand I like,

I feel lonely too, I need beauty queen to message me,

 

Vrr-Vrrrm…they drive,

Through mirror they took me as an item walking next to the street,

I always ask myself why God made such a gap between rich and poor,

And I doubt if he can do that in heaven like on earth,

Heaven is of angels, and poorman will be one of angels thereafter,

That I went crazy, become fearless of death,

Jail much better that life in the street,

Where is my gun?

I will grab that multimillion car and sell it for few thousands,

Few thousands nothing to me so I can blow it in one night,

Blow it testing what they fat-cats feel  in hotels and nightclubs,

Now i have a list, even if I can’t spell right,

Bugatti, lamborgini, maybatch, ferari are topping the list on the deal,

Yes I will act crazy,

Hustle until I fill the table with huge notes,

 

Or you are rich you can give me job,

Yes I can work if you can pay me that much,

Or the government is creating the jobs for youth,

Or the leaders are enriching themselves instead,

Hustling no fool’s business,

Fears and compassion are all dead,

As hustling day by day as deadman walking,

Being dead worth than living and hustling on a street life,

Grabbing empty purse is not acting crazy,

Finding it empty a lead on where to start,

Hustle, hustle, hustle to find,

Death be the last to come in mind,

 

Boom!Boom! We are exchanging fires with the police,

Chase embarked like that in a movie,

With my AK on the right and 9mil on the left I thought we will finish the police,

I was wrong, for two hours Flying squad blast me,

I found myself lying on the pool of blood,

“Wasted” I heard them saying.

(Even when I was there bleeding,

I never thought or feared of jail nor death.)

 

 

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