We irrigate the soil not with water, but with blood,
Being citizens of this city, we all are nurtured in strife,
awaiting the next nigga to drop with a mighty thud.
The playground bears the brains of a future president,
and the roads swallow that wasted soul,
Gangs take away our children without our consent,
leaving in our hearts a hollow hole.
Bullets scatter in the air like confetti,
signifying the fall of a fellow brother,
All for street cred, a cause insanely petty,
drawing tears from the eyes of one more mother.
Just down the street, I hear a screaming glock,
What more can I say, but welcome to Chiraq.
Adesina Aanuoluwapo John - 2016
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