Handgun Hustler
Money is the motive, success is the mission, and “hustler” is the name given to describe the black mans position as he brags about how much work he puts in on the streets, and how he never served a day in detention.
That is not so, because he is some how always late to the lords house on sundays, and fails to mention that ascension is what he demands, but won’t get it unless one day, he thanks God for not putting his grind on restriction.
Money is the motive, gold rings, and chains are the wants and needs of this black man, California born, but raised by the thugs on the corner, saved by the Glock-Nine, and brutally beat up so that he may learn how to defend himself, and not look like a wack man or a sorry loaner.
Growing up, he knew nothing but streets, was cool with every local stoner, had plugs and strings, and always packed heat at the age of thirteen.
Struggle was the way of life, he moved white, sold weed, killed a few people and drunk his pain away with liquor and codeine.
He got what he wanted by all means, but not the legal way, he had that piece on him, that Desert E on him, because he refused to pack the thirty eight.
This is a little information about an anonymous hand gun hustler.
(2014)
This is a short poem written to describe only a little about a handgun hustler, or in other words a black man that grew up with struggles, and was under the impression that hustling and getting what he wanted with a piece and not getting it the legal way, was the only way. Although this may lack full description, there is still understanding and visualization. I chose not to include so much information because i want the readers to add more themselves. I want Blacks, Whites, and so forth to input more to this. Reason? Well it is Black History month and we all know that us African Americans are all viewed as CRIMINALS, so i wrote this just to see what my people and other races think should be added to this.
