Gangster At Heart

[green_eyes0021]

I am a hoodlum,
Gangster at heart,
My streets and me,
Can't be set apart.

These are my homies,
Known as my dogs,
When there is beef,
It's them I call.

This is my gun,
Known as my piece,
Just cross my path,
Your life will cease.

I sell my drugs,
To get my loot.
Some I can smoke,
Drink, sniff, or shoot.

Just fashion clothes,
It's what I style,
Just crazy ho-es,
To drive me wild.

I got my cars,
I live the life.
Don't give a f-ck
I'm nothing nice.

I'm an ex-hoodlum,
Gangster no more
Now I'm in jail,
I mop the floors.

Can't see my homies,
Don't see my dogs.
All I see now,
Is just four walls.

Forty to life,
Is what I got.
A six year old,
By accident I shot.

Don't have a gun,
Don't have a piece.
And from this cell,
Won't be released.

Three meals a day,
Thrown at my plate.
Some of the men,
See me as a date.

Some want to play,
Some want to pray.
Some want to learn,
Some want to rape.

Just blue clothes,
Is what I style.
Still have a h-oe,
His name is Kyle.

I lost my freedom,
I lost my name.
A government number,
Is what I became.

 

[chola4life]

I am a hoodlum,
Gangster at heart,
My streets and me,
Can't be set apart.

These are my homies,
Known as my dogs,
When there is beef,
It's them I call.

This is my gun,
Known as my piece,
Just cross my path,
Your life will cease.

I sell my drugs,
To get my loot.
Some I can smoke,
Drink, sniff, or shoot.

Just fashion clothes,
It's what I style,
Just crazy ho-es,
To drive me wild.

I got my cars,
I live the life.
Don't give a f-ck
I'm nothing nice.

I'm an ex-hoodlum,
Gangster no more
Now I'm in jail,
I mop the floors.

Can't see my homies,
Don't see my dogs.
All I see now,
Is just four walls.

Forty to life,
Is what I got.
A six year old,
By accident I shot.

Don't have a gun,
Don't have a piece.
And from this cell,
Won't be released.

Three meals a day,
Thrown at my plate.
Some of the men,
See me as a date.

Some want to play,
Some want to pray.
Some want to learn,
Some want to rape.

Just blue clothes,
Is what I style.
Still have a h-oe,
His name is Kyle.

I lost my freedom,
I lost my name.
A government number,
Is what I became.

damn it that`s some firme ass shit ese.

 

[acuario5764]

GOOD POEM!!!!!!!!!! DID YOU WRITE THIS?????????????

 

[**MiSS 5o9**]

WOW it is good!!! ur good at this!!!

 

[green_eyes0021]

thankx

 

[HomeyG]

its true, that is what happens when you join shit they say your el spookey for life or whattveer then you turn out as a number for life

good poem

 

[Demonio]

Reported for Plagiarism

I am a hoodlum,
Gangster at heart,
My streets and me,
Can't be set apart.

These are my homies,
Known as my dogs,
When there is beef,
It's them I call.

This is my gun,
Known as my piece,
Just cross my path,
Your life will cease.

I sell my drugs,
To get my loot.
Some I can smoke,
Drink, sniff, or shoot.

Just fashion clothes,
It's what I style,
Just crazy ho-es,
To drive me wild.

I got my cars,
I live the life.
Don't give a f-ck
I'm nothing nice.

I'm an ex-hoodlum,
Gangster no more
Now I'm in jail,
I mop the floors.

Can't see my homies,
Don't see my dogs.
All I see now,
Is just four walls.

Forty to life,
Is what I got.
A six year old,
By accident I shot.

Don't have a gun,
Don't have a piece.
And from this cell,
Won't be released.

Three meals a day,
Thrown at my plate.
Some of the men,
See me as a date.

Some want to play,
Some want to pray.
Some want to learn,
Some want to rape.

Just blue clothes,
Is what I style.
Still have a h-oe,
His name is Kyle.

I lost my freedom,
I lost my name.
A government number,
Is what I became.
Poem by ? 1998 by David Velazquez
posted on poems - and - quotes

Shame on you for plagiarism. Copying someone else's work and claiming it as your own, or not giving the artist credit is just not right, and takes away from these incredible artists.
David Velazquez is a well known Hispanic author. His work have been publish in many newspapers,websites and magazines. Here is one of my favorites of his.
-------------------------------

The father, a well digger, strong was he,
And as loving and kind as a father could be.

And Mary his daughter, five years old,
Was very much dearer than millions of gold.

To Mary her father was big, grand and nice,
So each had a treasure, beyond any price.

One day to the well, little Mary was sent
To take daddy's lunch, how gladly she went.

But when she looked down, not a thing could be seen.
The well, like a pocket, was dark as could be.

The father saw Mary and heard her voice, too,
But made not a sound, just to see what she'd do.

She dropped to her knees, the dear little soul,
And called down, "Oh, Daddy, are you down this hole?"

"Why yes Mary darling, I'm here at your feet,
Just drop my lunch for I'm ready to eat.

Just let it go easy, I'll catch it all right."
She did and she saw it fall out of sight.

"Why Mary," said father, "There's enough here for two,
Now this is the thing I would like you to do.

You jump down here to me and we'll eat it together,
Down here in the cool and away from the weather."

"Oh, daddy, I'm afraid, I can't see you at all,
Be sure now you catch me and don't let me fall."

'Twas just for a moment she wavered in doubt,
Then closing her dear little eyes she jumped out.

In the darkness, yes, that was the test,
She trusted in faith in her father's request.

And both were so happy he kissed her and smiled
Because of the sweet trusting faith of his child.

"Oh, sweet little Mary, you put me to shame,
How often my Father has called me the same.

But because it was dark I turned back in doubt.
Refusing the call, though his arms were stretched out."

? 1998 by David Velazquez

 

[BABY MILPAS]

Dats Koo Ese!!!

 

[ESA BABY GURL]

Nices Poem Ese ....... Wuzzup Vicky