BOM DIA POVO!
A PERGUNTA QUE EU FAÇO PRA VOCÊ:
QUER SER PRESO COM SORRISO NO ROSTO?
LUTAR BOXE CLANDESTINO?
JOGAR X1 IMAGINÁRIO?
SUBIR EM CARROS?
CONTORNAR A POLÍCIA?
FAZER BARRA NO SEMÁFORO?
ENCONTRAR O SPIKE LEE?
VÁ PRA NEW YORK CITY, A CIDADE QUE NÃO TÁ DORMINDO COM 2-0!
“By the bodega,
Iron under my coat, feeling braver,
Durag wrapping my waves up, pockets full of hope,
Do not step to me, I’m awkward,
I box lefty, and often,
My pops left me an orphan,
My momma wasn’t home…”
“…Could not stress to me I wasn’t GROWN,
Especially on nights I brought something home, to quiet the stomach rumblings,
“My demeanor, 30 years my senior,
My CHILDHOOD didn’t mean much,
Only RAISING green up,
RAISING my finger to critics,
RAISING my head to the sky,”