Tags
barrio, district 13, free flow, ghetto, got no rhythm, po folks, poetry, poverty
What a pale fellow that lives in the barrio.
Burrowed deep down in feral grounds.
A curious case no doubt no doubt.
Of scurvy and vitamin deficiencies.
Rickets, tickets, to tunneled abode.
Soils and mounds, the show off-road.
Dirty pigpen come tumbling down.
Life in the gutter makes plenty o fools.
Educate, eradicate, gold in the next yard.
Fine fellow learns tricks of the trade.
Coming up, status upbraid.
Ramblings of a dire strait man 