when theres a fight
to my despite
i am the one remembered
but if im winning, i'll be grinning
and soon you'll be dismembered
coz im a pric
with a nasty temper
trying to make a name
but fighting in the bronx
aint a childrens game
school tought me to fail
and the cops tought me to run
but now they can not touch
for im who weilds the gun
....unfinished
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem