NOTHING IS 4 FREE
'So, Y do we work so hard? Y?'
After Uncle Sam gets his cut
And we pay our bills
We barely have enough 2 get by
'The mo' we make, the mo' he take.'
That's what mom wonders at son's wake.
Son had a j-o-b, the illegal kind
So it was only a matter of time
B4 he was suited 4 a casket
U c, son had 2 much pride 2 drop fries
Or pack a grocery basket
Son had it goin' on, when he was alive
Now from below his soul hears his mom's cry
'Y u do this 2 me? Y?'
Finally he realize
NOTHING IS 4 FREE
©2005 DeaDLy WoRDz
1LOVE POET SOCIETY
