Published via Ecency

"SURVIVING IS AN ART TOO"

Look...
if you’re watching this, it’s 'cause something called you.
Maybe it’s curiosity… maybe you’re looking for a way out,
or maybe you’re just tired of playing the same old game.

I’m not an artist 'cause I grabbed a mic.
I’m an artist 'cause I survived.

I survived a whole lot of things that don’t show on the surface…
’cause what shines don’t always bring light.

Where I come from, they say you only get to be four things:
a gangbanger,
a stick-up kid,
a debt collector,
or a body on the pavement.

And if you don’t wanna be one of those,
don’t ask too many questions,
don’t stare too long,
don’t get involved.

“Don’t go sniffin’ where the smell’s strong,” they say.

But what do you do when the smell’s coming from your own home?
When your homies stop playing and start spraying?
When your brother stops dreaming and starts following codes you never learned?

What do you do when just being born puts you in the middle of a map someone else drew?

Some say you ain’t got a choice.
That if you’re born here, you’re already on the list.

But I learned something different:
there’s always a way out.
And ways out… they ain’t found — they’re built.

But let me tell you something straight:

If you gonna leave, don’t try.
’Cause the ones who "try"... get stuck.

This game got traps dressed like opportuniti

A favor,
a ride,
a look taken the wrong way,
a silence in the wrong moment —

and after that, even your dreams can’t bring you back.

The hood’s like a maze:
a lotta people think they’re walking out…
but they’re walking straight into a setup.

That’s why before you act with your hands,
use your head.

Don’t follow the loudest voice.
’Cause fear… fear whispers too.

Speaking of fear…

Ever heard "real men don’t cry"?

That’s cap.

The real strong ones?
They cry where no one sees 'em —
in the shower,
with the water hiding the tears,
with their chest quiet so the walls don’t hear 'em