With everyday that passes, your scent continues to dissipate, yet i am overwhelmed by my nostalgia on a daily basis.

There was a time when it felt cool to be a part of the dope slangin', heat packin' east side krew.

My ghosts are all locked up or dead now... a few of them broke out.  most of them still wake up sick...

And just because you held me as i kicked doesn't mean i owe you anything.

All i have to give is this diseased body, anyhow.

Through the waves of normalcy, this broken lifestyle has always been there, in the distance, beckoning me to give her just one more shot. one...more...shot..

Seduced by the prospect of belonging: code words, shooting galleries, familia, la raza.

We march through the littered streets; arms bruised, heavy lidded.

T.S. vs. emme, bloods against crips.

I got my nine to five and dope's got me...