Beat by Gorbanic, featuring K London. Enjoy =)

I've always wanted to write a sad gangster story in rap.

Story:

When moms died, couldn't afford to stay.
My little bro and I had to take our way
napsacks, strapped back--
new gang gotta adapt.
Surrounded by thugs with gats, imagine that.
Chop the day, rob the night, had to stay up nd fight.
School, none in sight. Abandoned thanks to fire's might.
bullets spray, people slayed, protect who you love-- let the rest lay.

I say this because this is true; pick a shoe red or blue,
choose before they choose for you.
I picked one, they rest around my spot-
Thought guard the crib, guess who fought?
Them, not.
Had to lock up the crib, had to lock it up tight.
Violence ain't no fib when your gats hugged at night
The nightmare that shakes, ain't quite a dream
The trigger is real, and so are the screams.

One night, when I stepped in
My little bro was gone, and so was all my gin
He was out with his crew,
Sin is only what we knew.
Stole, jacked, fought back, whoever walked through.
I figured he was good, but I gave him a call
*ring ring* answer bro- click.
All I hear is a brawl, screaming, screeching, what's goin on?
I asked no reply,
Just shit talkin' after dawn.
It grew louder and louder, till I hear a shot.
The line cut with "shit"
Then my phone dropped.
I yelled in the boys, hopped in the truck--
black clothes with a bandanna snug and tucked.
In my belt, with my nine, chrom dark and shine.
Covered my face with my mask, suited up for crime.
The shot echoed, yo it couldn't be far-
Stepped on the gas, peeled out quick, yo I'm comin' brah!

We reached the scene, drug dealers and fiends,
wounded souls on each end, gun fire, headlight beams.
This ain't gettin broke up, no sirens,
My weapon was the mop-- let's get this shit cleaned.
I couldn't see my bro, well, I couldn't tell.
Everyone was strapped up, two colours, one meant to tell
The story of the night, and it was going to be me.
So I aimed and fired out one, two, three.
I see a body drop, it was over quick
My hand still shaking, even with no trigger slip
I yelled out for my bro, but nothing in return.
I stropped in my tracks, look of concern.
Rushed to the bodies, only to learn:
I have nothing left to lose, and nothing left to earn.