I'm from Baltimore's West side
Folks might say it's the best side
The truth is it's where the distressed collide
Some fire guns and the others die
Where mothers clutch dead children to their breasts and wonder why
"Why oh why did my child have to die?"
Praying to God to get them back but only left to cry
To escape this hell I've tried
But once again it's here I subside
The city that reads? Somebody lied
More like the city that bleeds... you can still see where the blood has dried
Where the dealers sleep all day and post up all night
Where fiends sniff so much dope their notrils are dried
Shoot so much crack their brains are fried
Smoke so much weed they have bloodshot eyes
Drink so much liquor their livers are expired
Where nothing remains... everything has it's time
There use to be an economy on the rise
The only businesses left sell fake hair or chicken and fries
Dudes selling loose cigarettes on the side
Cemetaries are full but that's not a surprise
Morticians make a killing in my city where so many die
You can hear the sirens everywhere... another day in the life
Make one wrong move.... the autopsy table is where you'll lie
M.E. pulling out bullets from your back and your side
"Maam... I think this is your son.. can you please come down and identify?"
There ain't that much to do here... some club like Choices on a Friday night
Guaranteed before you leave someone will get in a fight
Grab some grub at a spot open all night
Make it home just before the morning light
Sleep all day and do the same thing the next night
Now how's that for urban plight?
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