The down feels tougher than the ups
So many trips I would need
To renew my interborough passport
Make sure you have the dictionary
Ready for slang translation
What’s cracking might get you cracked
What’s popping might have you deflated
The most impoverished district in the nation
You could sell 25 cent bags at the cornerstore
Of bbq frustration
And sour power sucka shit
Deuce deuce of death carbonated cutthroat
All designed to boost your pride
To biblical hellish proportions
Caution signs along with no to every action
Fashion is impeccable the runway is the lobby
Rewrite the rainbows find the chain of gold
Underneath the bench brown paper bag
Full of work quick to get doubled
Salt in a struggle wound quick to bubble
Blood could change color of the Bronx River
Jose the Beaver eager to put condos
Close to the kingdom so
He could bring dames to his dams
From birth want you in one of those programs
With acronyms initials official systems
Of dependency chemical bureaucracy
Twice a month check has you connected to the democracy
How to slap back segregation
Is overcoming discrimination
Impatiently craving freedom without actualizing
More centralizing the glossy glare
Of eyes glazed to escape the maze
With early entrances often exiting
Without noticing promoting a headline act
But the stage show ain’t worked out
Just a bunch of hypeman screaming
Get your hands up at the crowd
All those bootlegs lost and found trying to recover
What was left behind in due time
This might become a destination vacation
Thankful the shade grows in daylight
The Bronx is yearning for its history to be told
Each corner can have its only chapter
The barrios fill in the betweens
Those covers pulled tight to chins protect that chill
One of the places in the universe understand how I feel
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