123rd Street Rap- Willie Perdomo

A day on
123rd Street

Goes a little
Something like this:

Automatic bullets bounce
Off stoop steps

It's about time to pay
All my debts

Church bells bong for
Drunken mourners

Baby men growing on
All the corners

Money that
Ain't mine

Sun that
Don't shine

Trees that
Don't grow

Wind that
Won't blow

Drug posses
Ready to rumble

Ceilings starting
To crumble

Abuelas close their
Eyes and pray

While they watch
The children play

Not much
I can say

Except day turns
To night

And I can't tell what's
Wrong from what's right

On 123rd Street