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On My Block
by Glenn Cornwell
Over inflated aspirations, with less the grammar school education, where life means less than money, and the Kingpen signify's success, on my block.
Shoes are more important
than books, and everybody packs heat, just looking
for a come up or some
dramma, on my block.
The child disrespects his mama, and looks up to the robber, on my block.
Police are hated, and
never fail to hate back, while the thug is loved. The
concern citizens house
is burned to the ground for what he shouldn't have seen anyway.
Gotta mind your own,
on my block.
Infested with drugs, where
chrome rims mean more than the baby's milk and
every youngster wants
to be either Michael Jordan or Scarface. How many Michael Jordans are there
anyway?
Gladiator baseball and
everybody old enough to vote already had three strikes
before the law was passed,
nobody votes anyway, on my block.
Everybody respects the
dead, but nobody respects the living. Peace can be
found, only if
there's enough dope around, and it's checkday. In the dope fends quest
for the almighty high, he comes with the money, then he comes with the
drag, then if all else fails, he comes with the strap, and wonders why
the last thought he had, was lead, going through his head. Just another
day, on my block.
Funny, my little brother
wants to be just like me, a real "O.G.", on Death Row,
and there's not much
I can say cause it's just the way life is, on my block.
I guess I miss it more
than life itself, but sometimes I wonder, when I
think about my block,
"was I ever alive in the first place?"
By Glenn Cornwell D-08714
San Quentin State Prison
San Quentin
California 94974
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