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  • Numele Guvernului: Marco Miguel Robertson
  • Numărul de înregistrare: 62151-066
  • Vârstă:38
  • Timp Servit:15 + ani.
  • Home Town:Laur, MD
  • Propoziție:LIFE +24 ani.
  • Curentul de incarcare:Crimă
  • Alias:Marco Miguel
  • Data de lansare:Solicită scutirea post-condamnare
  • Afilierea închisoare:Ortodox musulman sunnit
  • Cercul de influență:Tewhan Butler
  • Instituție:USP Lewisburg (SMU)
  • Sunt un prizonier de stat Maryland în Unitatea de Management special al sistemului penitenciar federal în al cincisprezecelea an al LIFE + 24-ani de închisoare. NOPE, Nimic nu a fost în valoare de!

Oh Yeah, Și eu

Străzile numit,
La naiba,
Am ascultat!

Vii coșmaruri de zi cu zi în închisoare,
A dream
I wish it was.

Nu dragoste,
Pentru un asasin,
Îmbrățișări depresie;
Frustrarea mă ține strâns;
Shown in fact
I’m Black
Though my skin is light.

Tineri și bătrâni pentru a câștiga dungi lor,
Paying the price for seeking that life
When I only bit a slice of the American Pie

Days full of despair
Sunt bucuros să fie în viață.
Pentru nimic gangsterii vor sa sa strapunga partea mea.
Adevărul caut,
Nu pot să mint.
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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