It can be black, chrome, found inna home

Stashed inna room and they all go boom!

Some hold 6, some hold 9, some hold 30 if you got it then you dirty

Some got bodies found dead inna alley

One killed my good man called him trap alley

One hit my good hand when that car rode by me

BANG BANG!  when i seen that thang thang

My life flashed before my eyes and i thought about praying

Cried at the funeral, got fried after the funeral

Screaming alley but you still dont know what i been through

Pistols banging youngings slanging more then rock

Heard a youngin speak politic then you thought of pac

Never thought i be a victim to a bangin hammer but at least im still here 

And yall aint holding candles

by. Kerell Partee


Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.


If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741