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detalhes

  • Nome Governo: Marco Miguel Robertson
  • Registre Número: 62151-066
  • Idade:38
  • Time Served:15 + anos.
  • Home Town:Loureiro, MD
  • Sentença:VIDA +24 anos.
  • Corrente de carga:Assassinato
  • Pseudônimo:Marco Miguel
  • Data de Lançamento:Buscando alívio pós-condenação
  • Afiliação prisão:Ortodoxa sunita
  • Círculo de Influência:Tewhan Butler
  • Instituição:USP Lewisburg (SMU)
  • Eu sou um prisioneiro do Estado de Maryland na Unidade de Gestão Especial do sistema penitenciário federal no décimo quinto ano de uma vida + 24-sentença de ano. NOPE, Nada disso valeu a pena!

Oh Yeah, Me Too

As ruas chamado,
Maldição,
Escutei!

Vivendo pesadelos diários de prisão,
A dream
I wish it was.

Nenhum amor,
Para um bandido,
Abraços Depressão;
Frustração me mantém apertado;
Shown in fact
I’m Black
Though my skin is light.

A jovens e idosos para ganhar suas listras,
Paying the price for seeking that life
When I only bit a slice of the American Pie

Days full of despair
Ainda,
Estou feliz por estar vivo.
Pois nada gangsters querem furar meu lado.
A verdade que eu procuro,
Eu não posso mentir.
Goodbye
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
EUA,
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;
Broke,
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
Chop,
Chop,
Chop!

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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