Part One: The Move

This is the realist shit I ever wrote.
Telling the story of my life;
This is how I cope.
Battling influence, drugs, violence,
I can can give you all the hype.
Hoping it would silence.
But it all seems to be speaking so loud.
And yet they still consume me and endow.
Don't they know what they're doing to me?
Aren't they aware of the fear?
It was once hidden, but now they know.
"C'mon yo, you've got to be kid'n!"
They joke, but I find no humor in the acts I take par.
"Man, what did I get myself into?"
It all makes sense what my momma was trying to reassure.
"That my darling, is The Act Of Peer Pressure."