Male that lives in Victoria, Australia. Holds down four crappy jobs. Reads too much. Draws too much and writes too much. Spends too much time on tumblr
"I'd like to share a story, this is my story and cant no body tell it for me
You will well inform me, I am well aware that I don't belong here
You've made that perfectly clear, I get my ass kicked damn near everywhere
From Bel-Air shopping center just for stopping in there
From the black side all the way to the white side
OK there's a bright side a day that I might slide
You may call it a past I call it hauling my ass
Through that patch of grass over them railroad tracks
Oh them railroad tracks, them old railroad tracks
Them good old notorious oh well known tracks"
"Life is a beautiful struggle, People sift through the rubble for a suitable hustle. Some people using there noodle some people using thier muscle. Some people fit it together like a big piece of a puzzle"
"They say the odds against me, are crooked and impossible. Like I was born with a hole in my heart is an obstacle. I was left to die by the doctors, in the Children's Hospital. But I never lose hope, success is psychological. The world is volatile and the street is my education. Shaping the nation, like the blueprint of a mason"
"I'm like the little kids on TV that dig through the trash. I hustle regardless of the way you talk shit and laugh"
"The cold war is over but the world is still gettin colder. Atlas walking through the projects with the hood on my shoulders"
"So if I should ever fall and get caught in a hustle
Let them know that I died while I fought in a struggle. From the hoodrats to the rich kids lost in a bubble. Spray painting on the streets and at the subway tunnels. Write it down and remember that we never gave in. The mind of a child is where the revolution begins"
"Because even though we survived through the struggle that made us. We still look at ourselves through the eyes of people that hate us"