GHETTO TALES FROM THE SLUMS

GHETTO TALES FROM THE SLUMS (PAIN IN MY SOUL) 82 BPM — Dark Piano / Emotional Street Rap [INTRO — Spoken, Tired Voice] Yeah... Same corner... Same faces... Same motherfuckers chasing that same high... You ever look somebody in their eyes... And realize they already gave up on life? Shit... Sometimes I wonder if I'm any different. [VERSE 1 — RAW STREET PAIN] Selling dope, no hope, this shit getting old, Same fucking corner, same nights in the cold. Puffin' on an Optimo, tryna get my mind right, But the demons in my head keep me up all night. Posted on the avenue, watching fiends walk by, Empty souls, hollow cheeks, desperation in their eyes. One hit from the pipe, watch their whole world fade, Chasing something they lost, throwing life away. Seen a woman on the corner with her shoes worn thin, Used to hold her babies close, now she barely sees them. She asked me for a dollar, said she hadn't had a meal, But I watched her hit that pipe just to numb what she feels. And that shit fucked me up, 'cause I knew her back then, Before the streets swallowed her, before the sickness crept in. Now I'm counting dirty money with her tears on my mind, Trying hard to justify the way I'm surviving. Ain't no glory in this hustle, ain't no trophies for the pain, Just another fucked-up morning and another day the same. I keep saying I'ma change, but tomorrow never comes, Just another broken story from the ghetto and the slums. [HOOK — SLOW, PAINFUL DELIVERY] Ghetto tales from the slums, where the broken souls cry, Where the living walk like ghosts and the dreams slowly die. Everybody chasing something just to take away the pain, But the high only lasts till the hurt comes back again. Lord, I'm tired of these streets, tired of living this way, Tired of watching people die a little more every day. Got a pocket full of money, but my soul feeling numb, Just another lost child from the ghetto and the slums. [VERSE 2 — THE REALITY OF ADDICTION] Six in the morning, sun coming over the block, Old man digging through the trash with his hands shaking hard. Used to work construction, used to own him a home, Now he's sleeping behind dumpsters with nowhere left to go. He said, "Young blood, listen, don't you end up like me, I had a wife and two daughters, now they don't wanna see me." Said he started getting high just to deal with the stress, Now he wakes up every morning with a hole in his chest. And I stood there in silence, didn't know what to say, 'Cause the same shit killing him puts some food on my plate. That's a fucked-up contradiction that I carry inside, Making money off the pain that I see in their eyes. I watched a childhood homie turn to skin and bones, Used to talk about his future, now he ain't got a home. He don't ask about the family, don't ask about his son, Only asks who's holding something when the morning comes. And I hate what he's become, but I know he hates it too, 'Cause I seen him break down crying when he thought nobody knew. Said, "I swear I'm gonna quit, man, I just need one more day," Then he wiped away his tears and slowly walked away. [HOOK — DEEPER EMOTION] Ghetto tales from the slums, where the broken souls cry, Where the living walk like ghosts and the dreams slowly die. Everybody chasing something just to take away the pain, But the high only lasts till the hurt comes back again. Lord, I'm tired of these streets, tired of living this way, Tired of watching people die a little more every day. Got a pocket full of money, but my soul feeling numb, Just another lost child from the ghetto and the slums. [VERSE 3 — PERSONAL CONFESSION] Three in the morning, can't sleep, I'm wide awake, Thinking 'bout the choices and the lives I've seen break. Got some money in my pocket, but I can't buy peace, Every time I close my eyes, all these memories speak. I remember being broke, refrigerator damn near bare, Mama stressing over bills, acting like she didn't care. I could hear her crying softly when she thought I was asleep, That's the kind of fucking memory that cuts a little deep. So I started chasing dollars, didn't care about the cost, Thought the money meant survival, never counted what I lost. Now I'm standing in the mirror, don't recognize my face, Just a tired motherfucker trying to find a better place. I ain't proud of what I've done, I ain't asking for applause, I just did what I knew how, now I'm questioning it all. Every fiend that hits the pipe got a family somewhere, Got somebody who remembers when they used to be there. And the guilt don't disappear when the money gets spent, It just follows me back home when I'm struggling with the rent. I keep telling myself one day I'ma leave this shit behind, But the bills come every month and the streets don't give you time. Sometimes I sit in silence, let the tears hit the floor, Thinking how I got so far from the kid I was before. I ain't scared of being broke, I'm scared of dying this way, With a thousand things I meant to do and nothing left to say. [BRIDGE — SPOKEN, ALMOST BREAKING DOWN] You know what hurts the most? It's seeing somebody you grew up with... Somebody you used to laugh with... Somebody you used to call your brother... Walking down the street... And they don't even look like themselves anymore. And you wanna help 'em... But you're barely holding your own life together. That's the part nobody raps about. The guilt... The shame... The shit you carry home... [VERSE 4 — THE PAIN BEHIND THE STREETS] Another candle on the sidewalk, another name on the wall, Another mother screaming, asking God why he called. Another little boy growing up without his dad, Another childhood stolen by the life his father had. Another woman at the shelter with a picture in her hand, Showing strangers what her daughter looked like before the drugs began. Said, "If you ever see my baby, tell her mama's still at home," And I watched her start to tremble as she walked away alone. That shit stayed inside my head for a couple of nights, Had me staring at the ceiling, questioning my life. How the fuck we call it living when we're barely getting by? How we supposed to find some hope when we're surrounded by goodbyes? I seen poverty turn brothers into strangers over cash, Seen the closest friendships crumble over shit that didn't last. Seen a man lose his freedom for a couple hundred bucks, While his children grew up asking why their daddy gave them up. And I'm tired of pretending that this life is all I know, Tired of carrying this darkness everywhere I go. I don't need another dollar if it costs another soul, I just wanna find some peace before my heart turns cold. [FINAL HOOK — BROKEN, EMOTIONAL] Ghetto tales from the slums, where the broken souls cry, Where the living walk like ghosts and the dreams slowly die. Everybody chasing something just to take away the pain, But the high only lasts till the hurt comes back again. Lord, I'm tired of these streets, tired of living this way, Tired of watching people die a little more every day. I don't wanna be another name forgotten when I'm gone, Just a man who lost his way, still trying to make it home. [OUTRO — SPOKEN OVER FADING PIANO] Selling dope... No hope... This shit getting old... And every morning I wake up... I tell myself today's gonna be different. But the sun comes up... The same fiends come walking... And I'm still standing on the same corner. Sometimes the hardest prison to escape... Ain't the one with bars. It's the life you got so used to living... You forgot there was another way. Ghetto tales from the slums... For everybody who never made it out.