a life drowned in music
smothered in depression
and kept in the shadow of my past mistakes.
relating to every word some black man spits,
through the radio our hearts are connected.
I feel every beat in the bass as a stab to my heart.
talking about getting money, ******* women,
and life on the streets.
Maybe we aren't so different after all.
His streets my hallways,
his money my dream,
his women my regrets,
his words my swag.
I rock to the beat of struggle and pain,
a mixed boys struggle,
a life with no end.
Alone? not really.
But a feeling so natural it's comfortable,
a feeling I hate, yet its the only thing that lets me know I'm alive.
A beat so unique once it's heard you'll never forget it
A beat that gets stuck in your head and won't ever come out
This beat is me.