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Old , 08:28 PM   #3
Crazy Hades
Just searching.
 
Posts: 6,015
Joined: Nov 2004
Status: Offline
(Jimmy Pocketz) vs Kein Witz

IP: 0825 899A

Topic: Cops on Patrol

Topic Battle Rules:

10 - UNLIMITED Lines
No Crew Votes
No Recycling
No Biting

Minimum posts to vote: 20

Check in by: 05-14-05 at 08:28 PM

Must drop verse in 4320 minutes after check in.
 
Old  
~Luciano~
 
IP:


......John:So What is it Like Being a Cop in Detroit?
.......Royceepressing
.......John:4 Real man...my Phones going out Tell Me
.......Royce: Itz DANGEROUS........

The Truth is this City is Worn out and Truthfully Deminished
With Broken Down Cadillacs and Buildings Neva Re-Finished
Over on 8 Mile you Can find the Prostitues turning Tricks
For their Rent...and there life gets Spents Burning Dicks
With the Slightest of Remorse for there Last Days Pleeding
Exchanging Needles with Feens Notice there Aids is Bleeding
And Seeping out of there Pores..Go Look Across the Street
Notice the Hustlers and Busters in Disguise Trying 2 Beat
The Descreet Savy... of the Citys Few Law Biting Citizens
Like the Living Legend Rosa Parks are Pushed into Existence
and the Importance is no Longer Noticed or Even Focused On
Because your Forgot like a Champion that was Suppose 2 Won
The Constant Battle of The Cheddar Boyz and the Street Lordz
& the Gang Community is Immunity its Nothing but Street Warz
Between the Pimps and There Tricks that Supply them Wealth
But Notice the Bums whos Dinner is Gum..
But the Mayor...... wont even help them Supply 4 them Self
So Basically after Eleven.. O.. Clock Pm the Lights turn Dim
and the Freaks Come Out and our Surving Chances turn Slim
All were Equipped with is these Clipz...Shotgun and NightStick
And my BulletProof Vest Got Tested by Bulletz from a LightCrip
That Thought trying to Flaw... the Law was a Worthier Cause
to Try to Put Me.. and My Partners Life in his very Own Palms
Not Focuseing on the Fact that Now he Has Life in the Prison
On A Bad Choice Wrong Night now he has Life in the System
Due to him being a Feen and a Product of his Enviorement
Which is the Reason im Done with this Beat and im Retireing
Because i cant Take Seeing Husbands Beating on there Wives
and The Crackheadz and Aids Victims Beating on there Lives
So this is my Last time on the Beat.....

and my Last ................Moment of Light and Life

*Royce Points Gun at His Temple and Pulls the Trigger*

............John:HELLO HELLO...ROYCE what was that Noise?
__________________


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~~Bumpin My Musik~~
~Audio Rookie Of The Year..Ya Tha Real 1~

 
Old  
Crazy Hades
 
IP:

Sort of long...

The rain fell hard, running in rivulets down the cemetery.
A priest recited rituals, the dead bodied was lowered, buried.
"Mr. John Lakes, 1964-2005...Loyal Father, once married"
said the tombstone's inscription, read by one ex-cop, wary.

He had no umbrella to shield him from the drops of rain,
mixing with the tears on his gaunt cheeks, hiding the pain.
His fingers twitched involuntarily, as he tried to explain:
it wasn't his fault, his emotions unable to be contained.

He stood there for hours, eyes narrowed to the grave,
of one of the only two people, in his career, he hadn't saved.
Once-lieutenant, turning eyes away, departed with a wave,
fresh flowers on the burial site, mixed with others he gave.

His shoes, standard issue, slapped audibly on the street;
bringing up puddles, oblivious, head hung in simple defeat.
A child stared from an alley, scavaging for food to eat.
He noticed the eyes, the nose, dug in his pockets for a treat.

His hands came up empty, clenching a few strands of lint.
The ex-cop turned away,seeing the couple wherever he went.
He quickened his pace with a stoic face, broke into a sprint.
Remember everything he had once did, everything he didn't.


Riding in his cruiser, his foot slamming down the pedal,
making a sharp turn, hearing the crumpling of metal.
Held by his seatbelt, he waited for his thoughts to settle.
The unlucky passenger died, grasping a handful of petals.

Turns out the flowers were for his Alzheimer-stricken mom.
Roses, the thorns biting into the dead man's pale palm.


The cop's eyes were sullen, sinking into their sockets.
His hands reached around, landing next to his left pocket.
He took the gun in his hand, a tool to end his pain.
To his temple, pulled the trigger, the walls coated with brains.
 
 


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