El King Of The Hood

he ruled the hood
with an iron fist

drug money
is honest money

he told his two year old
whose mother

he beat
to keep in line

he was the king
of the hood

until he met his fate
nel the cops

didn’t shoot him
they sent him to the pen instead

ninety nine years
with no possibility of parole

slightly better
than the permanent hole

until someone did just that
put his lights out para siempre

with a can
of refried beans

swung inside a calcetin
a tube sock

is a mighty equalizer
wonder how he’ll do in hell