Editor's ChoiceMusingsPoetry

The Hustler’s Pride

We wake up at dawn
After last night’s up’s and downs
And being played like a pawn
Leaving us looking like clowns
The sun is up
And again, we go for the cash
Not even thinking of a tea filled cup
Cos that sounds like trash

God bless our hustle!

We get to the streets
Errone treats us like shit
Cos they got cars in fleets
And so they tell us all the bullshit
We cry and ask God, “How long?”
We feel lost and forgotten
Our hearts and minds playing a sad song
Like they’re fucking high on the repeat button

God bless our hustle!

Momma’s waiting to ride in our Benz
Poppa’s waiting to crash in our mansion
Little bro is always out the streets with friends
With our homecoming his highest expectation
But they don’t know the tears we cry
The tons of sweat we dropped
How we strive and try
But it’s like our time has stopped

God bless our hustle!

We worked harder and smarter
And finally we got to the top
Everyone comes running faster and faster
Like we’re their last bus stop
Then we break down and remember
How they all kicked our asses
When all they had was curses to render
From their houses made of glasses

God bless our hustle!

Finally no shit gets over
Cos someday you’re gonna remember
How you gifted someone a Range Rover
To cruise and feel like better
Our wives and kids are gonna be damn proud
Of their God-blessed husbands and fathers
Who sometime worked round and round
Being no’ing but REAL STREET HUSTLERS!

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