Far back in the day
we own the street in every way.
Like astronauts in the Milky Way,
the streets was our discovering bay.

Free men of raw talents,
we live happily with few cents.
We went camping and built tents
and we knew our lives weren’t for rents.

Ghettohood was our creed,
and brotherhood devoid of greed.
A brother in need got a friend in deed,
and few seeds got many mouths to feed.

Family was everything;
an asset worth more than billions.
Childhood friends blossomed into bonded brethren
and fond memories were indelible.

No one was really a threat
as the law stood like a relic.
Bad boys were ghetto soldiers.
Bad girls were ghetto models.

Nowadays the ghetto
became a crime hub.
The streets no longer safe
for soldiers or models.
And the flag of the Ghettohood
lay used up and wrinkled,
a description of lost glory.

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