Lyrically Lit feat. Wu-Tang Clan

Lyrical Lit feat. Wu-Tang

Lyrically Lit feat. Wu-Tang Clan

©2017. All Rights Reserved.

I grew up on the crime side. The New York Time side, stayin alive was no jive.

And as an adult, it’s still not a cake walk. I’m different than most of the people here. Different means a whole ‘nother set of problems. What I call problems some would call a gift, but it’s all about perspective.

I don’t know when it started, but when I was born my mother died of… complications. You can say I know death. Death gave birth to me. It is with me and has been as long as I can remember. See, the “problem” I was referring to earlier is all about death. I can look at someone, anyone, and know how they will die. In the most intimate detail. The friends I did make didn’t stick around long. So with age came seclusion.

Why invest? Why bother?

Most of my life happens in the confines of my apartment. I found a way to work from home, and I was content with that. One rainy Tuesday, I ordered some groceries. Moving fast, the code to get into the building was left off my order. Panic set in right away. Being careless, forgetting small details means interaction with others. Going out and seeing people. The driver. My stomach started spinning.

I received a text, my preferred method of communication. When I responded with my code. It didn’t work. Immediately, I texted my neighbor and asked them for theirs. No entry.

After texting most of the people on my floor, I had no choice. I took the stairs from the 7th floor to avoid people, and listened for voices in the lobby. I heard none. Jetting out of the exit toward the front door of the building the driver and I connected eyes.

Time slowed and his death played like a movie in front of me. Bullets tore through his flesh. Blood, the air was heavy with it. Blood and fear. A uniformed man with a gun in his hand. The police. I was frozen in my tracks.

He waved. His large, bright smile welcomed me as he raised my groceries for me to see. His clothes. The same clothes he wore as he lay dead in the street.

Lyrics from C.R.E.A.M submitted by Aisha M. Want to submit a lyric, email me at, subject: Lyrical Lit Submission

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