Moanie in the Middle
Today the streets were paved with maple syrup gunpowder, and rain.
My Nikes are made of rubber so I got stuck in a fixed position.
I'm thankful to god that I had the common sense to take them off.
Then it rained.
Here we go again. I'm black, broke, and barefoot.
I saw the sun in the hands of a dead friend.
We used to try and catch the beats on the 2 and the 4.
We grew up and I played guitar and piano,
Wearing skinny pants and watching Japanese cartoons.
He played the trumpet and the choppa.
Holding his mother together through poverty's blues singing "moanie in the middle."
Last time I saw moanie she was half empty like my best friends mother.
Her sons partake in double cups and killings and she don't even bother with them.
She lays back on her back-while the tv is blurred. Her sons have 100 racks bustin out the rapper echoing from their bedroom.
She don't understand them.
She still listens to Mariah Carey and she does uppers.
Little girl with with slicked back hair thanks to beeswax and sulphur8.
She has a veil on her head with sequins that could make Michael Jackson Jealous.
She's eating alone at a McDonald's near you cause her momma hasn't picked her up from school.
A lone employee approaches her and before she could ask a dark skinned man walked by and they nod at each other.
She looks up at the employee with razor blade eyes and says "it's a Black thing."