The Cigarette Man

In the heart of the ghetto he stands

Kools in one palm Newports in the other hand

Neighborhood kids walk by dappin him up

Crackin jokes with him telling him his football team sucks

Selling cigs that fell off the back of a truck

In the sun all the time this niggas black as fuck

Gotta admire him tho he serious bout his come up

Real swift on his feet in case the ATF runs up

If he could work an honest job believe me he would

But he tired of eating at the shelter plus the food aint that good

Made a couple of mistakes that haunt him for life

Mean scar on his face over emotions from dice

Tired of bouncing around from house to house

Can’t really blame him I aint putting food in his mouth

All his girlfriends are fresh from rehab

And they always go back. He chalks it up and aint really that mad

Praying everyday for the lord to make a better way

Hoping he can sell enuff cigs to rent a room and lay

His head on a pillow and rest his tired soul

He could care less if it’s frequented by hookers on the stroll

To the untrained eye it looks like he selling death

Life aint easy and right now it’s the very best

He can do without robbin or stealin

His dream is survival, he never really wanted a million

You gotta admire someone surviving anyway that they can

Til next time hats off and daps to each and every cigarette man

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