Prodigal Son

The prodigal son runs the streets with a gun
Defiant and violent; not listening to anyone
He's young, dumb and misguided by his peers
Who've seen carnage way beyond their years

Tattoo tears starting to appear on their faces
Wear & tear's bringing insurmountable cases
Space is condensed behind barbwired fences
Public defenders provide minimal defenses

The smallest offense getting 'em sents of life
Born in the jungle, he tried to juggle his strife
No sound advice provided before strike three
Now his vice is surviving the penitentiary