It’s getting gritty, cold nights loud mornings.
Shaken up by the gun fire ringing through the cracks. Dancing in my dreams to the rhythm of bullets ricocheting.
From a city that you can lose your life in a split second. Dark alley ways and misty sidewalks, I stand tall and proceed down these Bronx streets. Rather confident in my being, going over scenarios in my head.
It’s either I grip up or give up all I got for a scared soul, running from the hustle. It’s multitudes to this life, don’t fall short due to your circumstances, we all live within the boarders of struggle.
Can you rise above it, attack it and be ready for war? Can you stop the devil sheltered inside, a world full of ugliness?
It’s sad, this is our code but when you from the streets you understand us better. There’s multiple ways to manage YES, but we gather simultaneously in pain and suffering until the cycle repeats.
Hence the feeling of “In my GLOCK I Trust !”.
I understand little man, you must be this way but always understand that these can deceive little man. Gather your thoughts and picture your dreams which advance way beyond your Glocks reach. Rather achieve those milestones and prosper than get stuck in a cross fire.
Now the choice is yours, rise above it or get caught up in the mix.