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Oct 2015
Spit it out like it must be said.
Its on the the tip of my tongue.
This **** is cousin to death,
She's like a father to me.
Big gold cross for my Momma
to show Pops we livin prosperously.
He coughs just like me,
I'm chiefin more than him now.
Candles burn at every turn until
the passion dims out.
Awaiting faith i know will never come to light.
I'll live like this until I'm six feet under Sunnyside.
Raised in the Beach,
You know i slave away in Compton.
One more day to pay the cover charge of living without options.
Pro Club on my black t.
Three lumps in my black tea.
Borderline poor royalty,
Unknown to you,
And it means more to me,
Anyway.
david jm
Written by
david jm  long beach ca
(long beach ca)   
438
     Greenie and ---
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