“I go by Dawg and I ain’t got no wealth.
Once knocked off ten niggas all by myself.
In Kansas City at eight, rolled with this set
In prison I was considered a vet.
I ain’t got on youngin’, ain’t got no wife.
Be sittin’ here fo’ the rest o’ mah life.
I know I caused Momma plenty o’ grief.
Don’t expect no court to grant me relief.
Momma left’ here a very long, long time ago
This bid in chain gang was goin’ mighty slow.
Once I ain’t got no mo’ use for this cell,
'Pect to see Satan at the gates of hell.”
I can’t do this bid all alone.
I can’t do this bid all alone.
I need someone to rock with me.
I can’t do this bid all alone.
“Bullet is my affected sobriquet,
Giv’n me when I got beat into this set.
I had lived up ’til then a pristine life.
My childhood sweetheart was my adoring wife.
Lived in a cul-de-sac, top of the hill,
'Til I messed up lent out my automobile.
My friend was out trafficking meth and X
While I was home with my wife having sex.
I decided to take my caste to trial,
Now I’m detained in chain gang for a while.
I experienced this aura of malaise.
I pray each night to the Ancient of Days.”
Dawg worked the block as a lookout or mule.
Ain’t had no time to be stuck up in school.
Joined the gang when he was young on the streets.
Didn’t weight much didn’t stand quite four feet.
Newport cigarettes, he came to enjoy.
Tooted the powder but would avoid “the boy.”
Loved the young girls who let him have his way.
Laid up with them all night and half the day.
When he wasn’t sellin’ crack vials, he raps,
Or finds some dice and shoots a game of craps.
He wasn’t one to obey any kind of rule.
Dawg had no reason to show up at school.
Bullet took classes sometimes day and night.
Wasn’t Phi Beta Kapp, tho’ he was real bright.
Buyin’ a home, payin’ off a student loan
Workin’ overtime over a cellular phone.
His wife wasn’t a red bone tho’ quite fair.
Never wore a weave ’cause she had long hair.
Made the down payments; he was jubilant.
Showed her the mansion, she was sibilant.
Ev’rything seems to be dandy and so fine.
Celebrated with cordon bleu and wine.
Then later on they wished to be all alone,
He made a mistake and picked up the phone.
Rarely saw his momma no went by her house.
Tho’ she fixed some pies, collard greens and souse.
Dawg on a mission had some folks to wet.
Giv’n special orders from within his set.
Any order from them he had to obey,
Or he and his peeps won’t see another day.
Strapped on his Baretta and loaded his Glock.
Went to motel, busted in, didn’t knock.
Sprayed up the place thought that, all them was done.
Visted Momma at the setting of the sun.
They heard the commotion, cops came posthaste.
One vic still lives, she could ID his face.
Bullet’s buddy called said his ride was down.
Said that his muffler was dragging the ground.
Had important business had to move fast.
Said that he would fill the tank up with gas.
Buddy dopped a few tabs of Meth and X
Bullet was in his new home having sex.
Later on, they went off for a good time.
Wes heavy on the gas that wasn’t a crime.
Bullet said, “Oh shit!” when he saw the cop.
Pulled over to the side, knew he had to stop.
Cop said, “Can I look at anything in sight?”
Bullet gave up his fourth amendment right.
The old lady picked from thousands his mug shot.
The DA conjectured motive and plot.
Dawg couldn’t get an airtight alibi.
His mother wouldn’t take the stand and lie.
After he iced niggas, he’d cut their throat.\
Like priest would do a sacrificial goat.
Based on the principle: dead tell no tale
Just why in the hell did he this time fail?
The very preponderance of evidence
Was weighted heavily against the defense.
The mouthpiece boldly said the defense rest.
Dawg lost heart for the first time since his arrest.
Arrested in one of his Giorgio suits.
Bullet wore Rolex watch, Timberlane boots.
Afraid to rub elbows with niggas there.
They gave him an orange jumpsuit to wear.
He heard hs own name on Eyewitness News.
He walked around in plastic shower shoes.
How could he mount a stellar defense?
Against such inculpatory evidence?
The DA had proposed an ass of time.
For those charged with that particular crime.
Lawyer was unusually effete.
Instead of objecting, he kept his seat.
Dawg in the chain gang knew just how to live.
Wherever he went he found a relative.
Recognized as a big man in his set.
Bragged ’bout women he had, niggas he wet.
They knew Dawg was vicious, courageous, cold.
Dawg had everything under tight control.
Bullet nonetheless was too easy to scare.
Gaze hard at him, he’d shit his underwear.
He couldn't believe he was in this place.
Went to chapel call, sang “Amazing Grace.”
Tho’ Dawg had access to food and cellphones.
Nothing could rectify budding hormones.
They gave Bullet a detail in the school.
He figured Dawg was an obnoxious fool.
Bullet generally admired Dawg’s swag
Who had a loudmouth let his britches sag.
From giddy-up he knew Dawg’s learnin’ disabled.
Took hi aside to some nearby tables.
Gave him kiddie book on Aesop’s fables.
He knew his student was going through hell
Bullet sat, his tears copiously fell,
Bullet listened, silently as Dawg read.
Dawg yelled out, “Nigga don’t fuck wit’ mah head!”
Sadly, Bullet wiped some snot from his nose,
Took a few seconds so he could compose.
Promised he would teach him to read and write,
To scan trial transcripts, continue his fight.
From that very moment their very souls were knit
Like Jonathan and David in Holy Writ.
Dawg was yet tough e’en tho’ their love still grew.
Bullet wanted to fit right in with Dawg’s crew.
One-by-one they brutally beat his ass.
They left him to lie on some muddy grass.
Dawg could not leave sans his sole possession.
Bullet was now his total obsession.
Others left, Dawg turned his face from the crowd,
Knelt next to Bullet and wailed real loud.
Recalled when they told him his momma died.
He never mourned and he never had cried.
Said to himself, “Why I jump Bullet in?
He’s special to me, he’s more than a friend.
Folks don’t send notes nor Christmas cards to me.
Bullet, he’s all I got, he’s family.
I ain’t got no youngin’ , ain’t got no life.
I want you to know, I want you to see
Fuckin’ wit’ Bullet’s like fuckin’ wit’ me!”
Edward Palmore was born in Newark, New Jersey, where he attended public schools. Upon graduation from the University of Houston with a baccalaureate of arts degree in U.S. History, he commissioned as an air defense artillery office. You can view his full bio here.