Hood Rap Poem by Magod Scroef

In the heart of the streets, where the rhythm flows,
There's a style of rap that everybody knows,
It's the raw, uncut, they call it hood rap,
Where beats and lyrics come together like snap.

From the projects to the corners, where dreams unfold,
Where life's struggles and pain are so bold,
It's in these dark alleys that voices rise,
Spitting rhymes that mesmerize.

Hood rap speaks truths, it's raw and real,
Tales of hustling, survival, and the deals,
It's the voice of the voiceless, the unseen,
The rhythm of the streets, a powerful machine.

The beats hit hard, like a punch to the chest,
As the words flow freely, never second best,
From the start to the end, it's a lyrical war,
Every bar and verse, a truth they explore.

Rappers pour their souls into every line,
Expressing their struggles, and the grind,
They paint vivid pictures with words that ignite,
The fire within, making souls take flight.

They spit about the odds stacked against,
The violence, corruption, and shattered fence,
It's a tale of survival and fierce ambition,
A reflection of their city's true condition.

Hood rap is a cry for justice and change,
A celebration of street culture on the mainstage,
It's a language that resonates with the crowd,
In the hood, it's the music playing loud.

So next time you hear the beats that slap,
Remember the power behind that hood rap,
It's the voice of the streets, echoing strong,
A poetic symphony, singing the hood's song.