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Dec 2016
Coming from poverty by design, bloodline on the outside
Cold hearted world offers little in the way of placement
Home son, I was told is what you make it
I made a promise to myself early to better my living arrangements
Hostility in the homeland broke the best and huddled the rest
Is it really better?
What was then a haven has become the slums the government doesn't see the point in saving
Displacing everyone, non-discriminatory meaning they **** any and all races
The projects unfinished
Supposed to be stepping stone temporary digs though some never made it out
The image faded out
Cave em in,
Raze it, redevelopment
Resurrection is the aim of betterment
Hear the hatred in my cadences
There goes the neighborhood to micro brews and vape toting middle age
Dousche bags and ironic hat patronage
Grandmama left Brooklyn
Saying **** ain't been the same since the hipsters took it
Where's the history? Look at the back bay nothing ethnic left in the marketplace
Fairy tales are rarely destiny
Not every step leads to promenades some only bring you closer to misery
As for me
I'm no longer in need but the thought of the hunger is not escaping me
My sagest dreams faded in static clouded space
In other words
I'm losing sleep
My conscience is a ******* thief, crooked like the reason my gramma don't play her numbers
Unlucky heard in symphony
We took the scars with open arms with the promise of a fortune she most likely won't live to see
When I bought my humble home and hung a diploma carefully it meant more than blood
We sweat no tears, expectations fallen over the past years
I promised
It's all open pastures if we just make it past here
Written by
StaticNSage  Melnea Cass Boulevard
(Melnea Cass Boulevard)   
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