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Mushin in my blood, it is where I was born

The lifestyle, the culture like a shirt I’ve worn

As a kid I was exposed to violence and porn

Fearless and desperate, taking the bull by the horn

Densely populated, dominated by thugs

Here, we chop knuckles we don’t give hugs.

Prostitutes half-naked, parading our streets

As a kid, I would watch lick my lips without a sweet

Few churches, few mosques, more hotels and bars

Street-fighting, bottle-breaking, boys are kept behind bars

Many streets untarred, full of retards

Children treat adults with no regards

Street-hawking, child-labour haunt the little minds

Parents want to survive so they never mind.
Gun-shots every night, we all live in fear

Police pose with armour-tanks with enough gas to tear

Every junction, every corner, boys are smoking weed

Teenage girls warming beds just to meet their need

On sanitations, we play football on the streets

No jerseys, no boots we tackle hard with our feet

2Face from  Festac, 9ice from Bariga

We are proud of our own Alabi Pasuma
Now the change has come, guys are back to school

Violence has disappeared, everywhere is cool

Teenage girls quit flirting, they keep their pride

They are getting married, guys make them their bride

Being born here is a blessing and not a curse

I’m proud of my hood, I don’t know about yours



by Olaide aka Poetstreet (inspired from the street).

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