The ghetto is a welcoming place, my home

I lived here all my life, I call it my own

The neighbors, for the most part, are friendly and nice

I ran out of food once, the single mother next door fed me chicken and rice.

Yes the ghetto has bad stereotypes, more than a few

But this is my home, I want nothing new.

The ghetto is a normal neighborhood on some days:

The birds fly, the children run and play.

The hood is not all bad you see

My heart belongs here, where it should be.

But please don’t misunderstand,

I will proceed with bigger things in my life; give a helping hand:

I want to become a teacher, a dream I will fight for because I believe in me

So I can give back to others, the world and my community

But there is one thing I hope I never do

That is…

Forget where I came from: the ghetto, my hood.