The top of the T is what we called it, where dope fiends and trap Queens meet hustlers pimps and alcoholics, with daydreams of quick schemes that are in a life filled with paranoia death wishes and let Downs, this is the place where black Superman meets kryptonite and is seen as a ghetto vet now, where the real ones live Corcoran ironwood tehachapi wayside, all housing for real nigggas trying to protect their pride, behind the mask of aggression is where their pain hides, living life in a cage while dying inside, I remember when my first celly cried and I wasn't in jail, all alone hating my situation so inside this Earthly cell, I cried to myself, knowing I was better than this lack of self-empowerment living a life that was bullshit, powder bags and full clips prostitutes and pookie hits, I looked in the mirror wondering who the fuck is this, at that moment reality hit me like a brick, nobody's better than Bullshit if it happened to me, I've seen some good niggas lose it all at the top of T, visualizing themselves rising to riches while drowning in poverty, just wanting to be in the place where the dollars b, and the squalor's free, sentenced to life at the top of the T.
© Orpheus The Breathe Of Life