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| A typical day in the ghetto |
Karl Kani, FUBU, ECKO, School of Hardknocks
We don’t care if they are original or rip-offs
Baggy cocaine jeans, waist sized forty-eight
Wild graffiti tees, XXXL standards, sosket!
Timberland boots, Nike Shock X, Dada Supreme
Gangsta grills, bling blinging, shining as bright as the sun
LED infused belts, nicknames crawling across
Multi colored sunglasses, we call them stunnas
Big pockets, small wallets, no dough, big swag
Gangsta walks, sometimes we fly to the moon
Techy gadgets, ipods, Playstations, jukeboxes
MTV, BET, Channel O induced, we nod to every tune
Gangsta rap, Westside Connection, Southern Flair
Gangsta talk, we speak street English
Got loads of baby mamas, players’ playa
The club bangers, the nocturnal beings, pot smoking, ganja extremists
Porn, action flicks, gangsta movies, you name them.
Wild hairdos, corn roll, dreadlocks, old school afro
The 9mm, The Smith & Wesson’s, The P89s, the Uzis, The Pump actions, The AKs
Geared up, ready for action, smoke a sonofab**ch out
We’ve got the block covered; we got each other’s back
To you it’s the streets, to you it’s the projects, to you it’s the Ghetto
To us it’s our home, our lair, our territory
Born and raised on the streets, the streets speak to us.
You call us misfits, deviants, bastards and other unwholesome names
To us, we are the product of neglect, tough nuts to crack, vigilantes, street-sweepers, assassins and marauders.
We are like the bile attached to the kidney; you need to remove us with great care.
When you go on your knees at night to pray; say a prayer for us
When our lives are taken in broad day lights, dead ends, police swoops, gangsta rivalry and robbery
We will have our fulfilled rest in gangstas paradise.
Where we will be singing hymns and lighting up the chalice.
- Qouphy Appiah Obirikorang, 2011.
(
Youthology 101, is the first guest post to be featured on MYNAH blog. The writer who doesn't write much lately, happens to be one of the writer's writer around. Just watch out for his upcoming write-ups)
