I am a criminal, 
A low down ***** convict, 
Robbing old ladies and turning the youth into like minded thugs and killers. 
With my gun, I can turn any day into new years eve. 
Bang! Pow!
I've just shown you how, 
I ***** somebody's light out. 

I live by the gun 
Ready to pull it out and start blasting away,  
And if you're in the way? 
I hope you've had an eventful final day. 
One more body to my death toll is of little consequence. 
And to  those who choose to cross me
will be dealt with in a premeditated sequence. 

So many women I've widowed, 
So many children I've left with only half a family.
Do I care?
No. 
For my heart is as black as my skin 
I have no feelings of remorse or empathy. 

Or do I? 
Am I really this despicable person? 
Is what I've just said is not me at all, 
Or just what people perceive me to be.

The truth is, that's all it is
A perception 
A perverted perception forced upon me and others like me by illogical stereotypes, 
A perverted perception perpetuated to the the point where it has become the status quo,
A belief so deeply ingrained in the minds of the masses that I become public enemy number one, two and three, 
so deeply ingrained that I should not know what it means to be free, 
so deeply ingrained that I should not even be given the change to better myself. 

Does this perception out rank reality?
Does conceptuality govern the actuality of reality? 
 

If so, I perceive this world to be full of ****.