War

Acrimonious streets of Compton.
The sound of crying children,
As they mourn over their Fathers.
A war over turf, over respect.
Once a normal hood.
Is now bleeding and wrecked.
The South gangs ambushed us.
As we drank 40z malt liquor.
Some of us smoked green.
To get a buzz on quicker.

Night was almost over.
Everyone showing love.
No bullets in the from above.
Good night without a clover.
Central and West Compton.
Tagged and owned.
Just celebrated the win.
By getting tipsy and stoned.

Five in the morning.
We all get into the cads.
Start riding home.
I called my man Sugar.
We were all alone.
I said.
"Homie how long before,
They start shooting the gun"
He said
"Those suckers won't come,
if they do they better run"
.............

Acrimonious streets of Compton.
The sound of crying children.
Sugar was wrong.
As we all started leaving.
Some thugs came in strong.
Took us out one by one.
No support from the homies.
Because most of them gone.

I'm not in Central and West now.
In city hospital.
That child crying was the son.
Of sugar.
He got penetrated by a gun.
Turns out he was wrong.