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  • Vlada Ime: Marco Miguel Robertson
  • Registrirajte se broj: 62151-066
  • Starost:38
  • Vrijeme Služio:15 + g..
  • Mjesto:Lovor, MD
  • Rečenica:ŽIVOT +24 g..
  • Trenutni Charge:Ubistvo
  • Pseudonim:Marco Miguel
  • Datum objave:Traži post-uvjerenje reljef
  • Zatvor Zajednica:Pravoslavna sunitski musliman
  • Krug utjecaja:Tewhan Butler
  • Institucija:USP Lewisburg (SMU)
  • Ja sam zatočenik Maryland State u Posebnom gospodarskoj jedinici savezne zatvorskog sustava u petnaestoj godini od ŽIVOTA + 24-godišnju zatvorsku kaznu. NOPE, Ništa od toga nije bio vrijedan!

Oh Yeah, Me Too

Ulice zove,
Slušao sam!

Živim dnevne noćne more u zatvoru,
A dream
I wish it was.

No ljubav,
Za razbojnika,
Depresija zagrljaje;
Frustracija drži me čvrsto;
Shown in fact
I’m Black
Though my skin is light.

Mladi i stari iz zaraditi svoje pruge,
Paying the price for seeking that life
When I only bit a slice of the American Pie

Days full of despair
Drago mi je da je živ.
Za ništa gangsteri žele probiti mojoj strani.
Istina ja tražim,
Ja ne mogu lagati.
To the outside
Without so much as a wave,
Twenty-three and One.
Restrained by chains

My sanity is exercised,
By guys who don’t realize principle,
No morals,
Or values,
In their visual;
Today your average everyday criminal.

To the wolves I’m thrown,
Cowards running in packs,
Can’t hold their own;
Hyenas wicked laughter,
Heard alongside racist faces;
You bastards!

Dark as my own flesh,
If not more,
But lacking a spine to support their core.

On cell doors
Is a chart posted with the happenings of every prisoner
For them to report
But this is what I earned.

Evil waged upon me,
So when I recite scripture
My eyes tear up and burn.

Am I in hell’s flames,
Shamed by oppression’s cradle I was born in
Bathing in sin;
Trapped in a dimension
With fiendish rotation,
Housed in master’s zoo

Blew trial before I had the chance to blow;
Without a penny to show,
Busted up dames got the nerve to turn up their nose.

Through a small window various devils peep,
Toss and turn in bed
From the dirt I did,
I can’t sleep

Can’t eat;
Can’t be weak;
Murder don’t stop.
Better be quick to grab a knife
And slice your hands through the air

Careful not to roll the dice with your life;
A false step can be fatal.
I know mommy thought different when she rocked me in the cradle,
Smiled when I kicked her in the navel.

All too realistic,
I’m just a statistic
Who got twisted
In a cold system,
Mesmerized by losing wins;
Hypnotized by street glory;
A victim too,
Telling my story
From the pen,
Hoping you say,
I don’t want to be like him.


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