Streets of gold lined with poverty
Dreams of ambitious careers ,
Self motivated speech but yet
Doubtful thoughts flood their mind body and soul like a worded essay  

Some wanted out
Most wanted in
They wanted their streets of gold
Lined with uneven skin tones
Beggars and hustlers
Baby suited with name brands of pity

They are warlike
Animals would be treated like royals
Especially dogs
Their "beloved" mothers and neighbours would be like their door mat
hatred , angry and bad mind rushed like blood through vein

Being unemployed is their hobby
Killing, ******, and forming gangs are their jobs
They would carry out their illegal duties in the open
**** for less than a needle
Then cry for justice