I don’t know (and I refuse to Google) who said to tell stories from scars, not wounds.
But, they’re smart.
Since I’m not going to google it, we’ll go with where my mental-google automatically jumps:
On my block, everybody business ain’t ya business
What’s going on in this house is staying here, comprende?
On my block, ya had to have that understanding
Cause if ya told Ms. Mattie, she went and told Gladys
And once ya mama got it, it was all on the wire
And when the word got back, they set yo’ ass on fire
On my block, we got some ‘Nam vets shell, shocked
Who never quite got right, now they inhale rocks
On my block, , it’s like the world don’t exist
We stay confined to this small little section we living in
Oh my block, I wouldn’t trade it for the world
Cause I love these ghetto boys and girls
Born and raised on my block
Scars, not wounds.
Because it’s the lessons, not just the stories.