Thursday, July 25, 2013


Mushin in my blood, it is where I was born
The lifestyle, the culture like a shirt I’ve worn
As a kid I was exposed to violence and porn
Fearless and desperate, taking the bull by the horn
Densely populated, dominated by thugs
Here, we chop knuckles we don’t give hugs.

Prostitutes half-naked, parading our streets
As a kid, I would watch lick my lips without a sweet
Few churches, few mosques, more hotels and bars
Street-fighting, bottle-breaking, boys are kept behind bars
Many streets untarred, full of retards
Children treat adults with no regards
Street-hawking, child-labour haunt the little minds
Parents want to survive so they never mind.

Gun-shots every night, we all live in fear
Police pose with armour-tanks with enough gas to tear
Every junction, every corner, boys are smoking weed
Teenage girls warming beds just to meet their need
On sanitations, we play football on the streets
No jerseys, no boots we tackle hard with our feet
2Face from  Festac, 9ice from Bariga
We are proud of our own Alabi Pasuma

Now the change has come, guys are back to school
Violence has disappeared, everywhere is cool
Teenage girls quit flirting, they keep their pride
They are getting married, guys make them their bride
Being born here is a blessing and not a curse
I’m proud of my hood, I don’t know about yours

by Olaide aka Poetstreet (inspired from the street).

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