Dru Down - Rescue 911

Bloods & Crips - Puttin' In Work

Get up!
Streets raised me, built my vision clear,
Concrete lessons turned pain sincere.
Queens hustle, Compton wisdom here,
Two coasts unified—real ones persevere.

Sidewalk lessons etched deep in my veins,
Mama worked doubles through storms and pains.
Dreamed from bodegas under subway trains,
Now my words weigh heavy like Cuban chains.

Queens concrete gave scars and stripes,
Learned early—dreams vanish overnight.
But struggle births legends who refuse the plight,
Turn darkness to dawn—pen became my light.

Dominican blood, NYC grit,
Built from poverty, but rich in wit.
Every lyric honest, every bar legit,
Fusion the name—the flame been lit.

Streets raised me, built my vision clear,
Concrete lessons turned pain sincere.
Queens hustle, Compton wisdom here,
Two coasts unified—real ones persevere.

Palm trees sway, helicopters patrol,
Single mother hustle kept food on stove.
Lowriders bounce, street life took tolls,
Compton concrete birthed wisdom and soul.

Smooth as Snoop, Ice Cube's conviction,
Lyrics hit real—no fiction depiction.
Gunshots echoed, streets taught ambition,
Turned pain into gold—real-life alchemist vision.

G-funk grooves where I laid my scars,
Life on corners defined these bars.
Went from street corners to boulevard stars,
K-9’s testimony—truth in guitars.

Streets raised me, built my vision clear,
Concrete lessons turned pain sincere.
Queens hustle, Compton wisdom here,
Two coasts unified—real ones persevere.

East Coast cold with a New York walk,
Learned life’s game, street language talk.

West Coast rhythm, palm trees and chrome,
Compton-raised vision, forever my home.

Two worlds collide, same scars and battles,
Bodega dreams, lowrider rattles.

Street poetry—Queens to CPT,
Different hoods, same hustle, same key.

Wisdom universal, struggle refined,
Manny Fusion, K-9—voices aligned.

From concrete cracks to lyrical kings,
Streets made us who we are, let the truth ring.

Streets raised me, built my vision clear,
Concrete lessons turned pain sincere.
Queens hustle, Compton wisdom here,
Two coasts unified—real ones persevere.

Slob 187

Bloods & Crips

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