Classified identities …



Maybe one day you’ll understand my zeal

I’m out on the streets, in search of a veal

Unceremoniously signing off deals

Avoiding guns and hustlers who’s aim is to kill and steal

So the smell of gun smoke and tear gas is a daily ordeal

Spoiled milk and half baked mutton is my daily meal

And lots of ghetto secrets that I can’t reveal

I have classified identities that I have to conceal

Exclusives in my head locked with a bolt and a seal

Wounds that are yet to heal

There’s just so much that I have to feal

I could ran and hide but I’m here, and I’m real

just gimme a chance …



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