Maybe.

Maybe.

 

You’ve probably heard the story,

It’s going around, blood on hands,

All disgusting gory,

Maybe he’s psychotically ill,

Have you ever thought about that? Huh?

Maybe he was dressed in all black disguised by a single bat,

Or cornered by them piles of bills,

Lack of sleep cause of dem’ late hours,

Till he can earn enough to hit them hot showers,

He probably had a love life,

Maybe some kids, even a wife,

Feeding them all; tryin’ ta save them from that dark hole,

Buried deep in the pit of every soul.

 

But did you hear them pleas of guilty? No!

But I don’t understand you’re fucking cops though,

But maybe those cops don’t care,

Or maybe the government doesn’t wanna share,

Maybe.

 

Cause the government is corrupt,

They’re wealthy as fuck,

Living in palaces,

Situated where Dallas is,

Back to the man; did you even know his name?

Or did he literally just die in vain?

Now did you ever thinking about that, before;

Prosecuted for no god damn reason,

You say he’s suspected of treason,

That gun shot,

Left his corpse to rot,

Maybe he wasn’t to blame,

Have you ever thought that maybe he was framed?

 

You’ve all seen those teens,

Standing out by a cold fire,

Rap battles among their home built empire,

They built that lair,

Underground dungeons,

Sewers abandoned,

Father’s left his heir,

I don’t have any money,

No wonder I chose to rhyme,

No-one don’t even care about us,

“Them hoodlums and those hoes”,

I guess that really goes to show,

No-one really ever knows.

 

But did you hear them pleas of guilty? No!

But I don’t understand you’re fucking cops though,

But maybe those cops don’t care,

Or maybe the government doesn’t wanna share,

Maybe.

Just maybe.

Yeah maybe.

Think about maybe.

 

Somewhat inspired by Gotham Season 1 Episode 2 where those homeless kids were snatched up.

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2 thoughts on “Maybe.

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