Plutonium paths

There's these kids that walk on plutonium paths, shooting hearts for cocaine and cash.They are sold a side, kinahan or hutch, thrown into a life that's out of touch.

Every bullet to the head is another enemy down, the title of hitman bestowed upon there crown
Until some other pawn makes his name know, a trail of dead kids leading up to the throne.

Mainstream media fuel this gruesome hell, selling papers, labelling them, "cartel", as if it's some movie, some Mexican druglord dream, making money from a dwindling bloodstream.

Feel the pain as the tumultuous canons rein through the city streets, these kids, buired beneath our feet, unable to smell the roses, there souls forever drowning within the tears of the left behind.