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Qwel and Maker( Qwel & Maker )



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Qwel and Maker( Qwel & Maker )

Lake Effect

It's truly a blessing...
With all this stuff that's going on in this city.
All this is great, but...
I can't explain...
We ain't supposed to be here
Oh, Chicago you
Oh, Chicago you
Pray for me, I pray for you
Oh, pray for me, I pray for you
That's word to dirty banshees and rock-blowers and blow the cops
Not supposed to notice like Lower Wacker, below the docks
With tears run the mazes and numb faces
And fears comes and goes, stung the stages in the front pages
And tippy-toe the slushy street where the drunk sleeps
The Red Line; Stuck in Vietnam and the bum screeches
Of rusty beaches, and deep water, and one-eyed pigeons
A fight for chicken bones amidst the sunshine thinning
Everybody got their punchlines grinnin', she know a thousand good poems
The CHA don't leave her housing alone
Bulgin' shoulders [?]to know folks'll pull the shades on the roses
Turn the Down for they code, and bang on polygons for the half-brim
Earth steady stagnant and heavy habits, the backspin
Summer's swamp, shady's confetti, cabbage, and aspirin
When the Rev' get the cheddy fast to pay for their last sin
Baby hungry, momma thirsty
But let me hold somethin', dog, I got you Thursday
Vultures serve over roaches, swerve crumbs
Commotion as the folks turn numb
Heaven's a million miles from the ill
It's hard to see the stars with a mouth full of pills
Heaven's a million miles from the go
It's hard to see the sky with a nose up in the snow
Heaven's a million miles from the Chi'
It's hard to see the sky with the smoke up in the eye
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Heaven's a million miles from Chicago
Only see the stars when she's tippin' back a bottle
Crowd 'em in the block and then rip it down in Chicago
Cook county lock-up or block-up, blocka shouting tomorrow
It's different
We got our own Olympics, the first of twenty get gold
The four for forty, two for twenty get Walkin' block, beholdin' old-ass shorties that got that blow bag
And hold that forty,, slow as warnings
That know nine hundred ninety good poems, it's all lost
Nobody trying to get home and that's effed up
Miracle Mile just like a diamond that blisters the pride
Of 5's and 6's dying to the time of the twister
But get that lit up, swirl that pot on the burner
Follow fixture, while the sister make The violent they turn 'em, no conviction
Can't deter 'em, addiction'll earn his mother food
Cause ain't no cages turn no jungles to zoos
The 'Lake Effect', when some are numbin' the youth
Neutral martyrs, take your heart and fill your lungs with the blues
Nothing new up in the zoo, just holding moldy picture
But killing children, spilling it from Holy Scripture
My windy city calling out my favorite, she whispers
But watch that brim in the winter
She hate it
She knows eight hundred eighty good poems
Ain't nothing changed since Mayor Daley been thrown or Robert Taylor
Plus the Cabrini is gone, Ida B. Wells, and Henry Horner, and the Ickes is gone
The Stateway, working The list goes on, she can't afford a crib, she get those They gon' flip those phones, and tip those blows
And, forgot the stars, grown cold
Heaven's a million miles from Chicago
Only sees the stars when she's tippin' back a bottle
Heaven's a million miles from Chicago
Only sees the stars when she's tippin' back a bottle