From the Block to the Mic

I was born in the shadows after communism's fall, and by a Mars blocks I

can still hear the call. Would I ever return? That's a question

deep, but the scars of the struggle are the ones I keep.

Didn't stand in lines like my parents had, but I knew what it meant

when the money was bad. Worked hard at home yet the debts remained,

so I left to survive chasing better gains. Though I lost my accent,

my roots still stay from the edge of the city to the centers

way. Sometimes life's bitter, sometimes it's sweet, but I fight through the battles,