A Day in The Life of A Puerto Rican

See, I’m just this young, Puerto Rican boy
Speaking about this life.
I speak about his’, her’s, your’s, our’s
And this one ain’t so nice.
And I know that Jesus Christ
Ain’t sacrifice his life for nothing.
So, all we need to do is make our’s better.
Don’t worry, it ain’t that hard.
Praying is like writing a letter.
And those messengers are focused.
No matter the weather,
They will still go.
It could be some rain, some sleet, or some snow.

So, remember, no matter what’s your reasons,
You may always turn to God and Jesus.
But, not everyone looks up to God or Jesus.
And it seems no matter what, they never have a reason.
Like those thoughts popped up in their mind as soon as their life had begun.
They blame him for every bad thing in their life, but they don’t believe when
We try to tell them
That life is bumpy,
And the more you itch, the more it just keeps swellin’.

See, I have experience with that.
A lot of bad things happened in my past.
Even though those events went by so fast,
It seems like an eternity,
Forever it will last
In my soul.
Normal again,
Oh no, that will never be.
I’m permanently scared.
I compare life to a rock, cause it’s nothin’ but hard.

I took advantage of my friends’ lives, but I had to remorse three.
I gotta do that cause those same three friends died before me.
But I need to remember that no life is guaranteed.
But all these signs around me were meant to mislead.
Trick me into thinking that it was all of my fault.
But all these signs around me were meant to exalt.
Intensify the truth.
That’s all they do.
They’re infecting the minds of all of our youth.
Somewhere down the line of our youth,
It comes to me.
Somewhere down the block,
There’s a boy getting’ shot,
And a shot of heroine is injected in an arm down the block.
They’re overdosin’ themselves, because that’s all that they got.
They got no family that loves ‘em, cause they’re busy smokin’ blocks,
And blocks of marijuana’s somewhere, so they’re busy breakin’ locks,
And locked up brains secluded, intruders like the boilin’ pot.
Plottin’ their way for invasion, crept through to you, that’s why that boy is getting’ shot.
You see, it’s hard in this world.
People can’t figure out who they are, or what they’re worth.
It’s hard because not even God owns this Earth.
This world plays tricks with your mind.
It gives you infinit stabs from behind.
It got teacher sayin’ ”Quit you illiterate, stop tryin’!!!”
So now we got little kids throats slit then dyin’…
No matter what I do,
This is where I live,
Where 15-year-old girls are screamin’ at their kids.
Where hustlas keep rollin’ dice and makin’ bigga bids.
Where criminals keep stackin’ up their homicidal list.
When the hell will we stop all of this?

See, everyone needs to snap out of this stereotypical state of mind.
But the only way to get to ya is if I spit it out in a rhyme.
So, there ya go.
Are ya satisfied?
Ya need to stop,
Cause ya got us feelin’ like we’re crammed in a shell.
Cause every time ya think “Mexican” ya think of Taco Bell.
Cause every time ya think “Dominican” ya think of platanos.
Cause every time ya think”Puerto Rican” ya think of Coquis or Goya beans.
Don’t hate cause ya can’t have any Coquis.
Cause ya know that they can’t survive out of Puerto Rico.
Don’t hate cause ya don’t got Goya.
Stop frontin’, cause ya know that ya eat it and it is “muy rico”
Yea, I’ll crack a little joke on a Dominican or Mexican,
But in their mind, they know I don’t have nothin’ against Dominicans or Mexicans.
So here we go, to Puerto Rico,
Yes I’m reppin’ it.
But I also got that Bronx blood in me,
And no matter what happened in the past,
in the long run it did better me.
So yes, I grew up with a rough past.
Had my “friends” force into my hands a gun.
While, their child grew up in a great school, with role model parents.
Yet I bet I still know more than their son.
Yes, I speak different with the accent that we all have in the Bronx.
People have criticized me for it,
Not by usin’ sticks or stones,
but it was more like big rocks that broke my bones.
But no matter what, my attitude will always stay positive.
This will not ruin my future plans,
Because in time my bones will heal.
And I’ve got nothin’ but time on my hands.
When I’m done with this, give it a big “Wepa!!!”
Si Puerto Rico es mi tierra.
I could be walkin’ down my block chantin’“Yo soy Boriqua, pa que tu lo sepa!!!”