In the Florida streets, deep in the cut.
I found my self lost, forgotten I was.

In the back of a neighborhood, off to the side,
I lived in the woods, where wounds I could hide.

Amongst rusted shopping carts and dilapidated tents.
Among a few shattered hearts is where I laid my head.
There were daily fights over breaking crack pipes.
At night I was out committing multiple crimes.

I lived with a man, an elderly gangster disciple.
He was aged and his repentance had became stifled.
Seventy Three years old,
Wounded by results of drugs which he once sold.

A paraplegic after his hip was broken.
A gang flag that had never been folded.

I took him to doctors on many days.
Helped push him to hustle every type of way.
I protected him from a robbery possibly being made.
In return, his...