This week’s underground hip-hop track of the week is ScholarMan’s Hood Stories Vol. 4, from his new album “Free Spirit Of A Troubled Soul” – which I been bumping nonstop since finally getting around to listening to it last week. ScholarMan has included a Hood Stories track in each of his last four albums, and each contains relevant lyrics and interesting storytelling. Vol. 4 is about a Iraq war veteran with post traumatic stress syndrome. Click below to listen to Hood Stories Vol. 4:

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And be sure to follow along with the lyrics after the break.

Daryl’s back from the war/
Bullet wounds he’s sore/
The things that he saw/
He don’t wanna see them no more/
Fresh off the plane/
He hoping to gain some sanity/
His country tricked him/
Said he fought for humanity/
Now you can guess/
He got post traumatic stress/
Hard for him to breath/
Lost a lung through his chest/
Plus he drinks now/
Slowly killing his liver/
Bad dreams just to wake up to a shiver/
His daughter scared of him/
And his shorty worried/
Can he maintain with the strife he carried?/
Before he left/
He was far from a mess/
Church every week/
Yes his fam had got the best/
Now he can hardly hold a job ‘cause he curking out/
Seeing things, weird words that he blurting out/
So that means bills are stacked, and they stacked more/
He wish he was dead/
What he come back for?/
All he thinking bout is ‘Damn, I’m a veteran/
Iraq two tours/
I deserve better than/
Uncle Sam owes me/
I’m gonna take it/
Guarantee I’m gonna make it/
Rob this motherfucker naked’/
Now what his plan was?/
To hit an ATM/
When they came to empty them/
Playing pretty grim/
He scoped it out, an armored truck every Friday morning/
Two different guards every week is what you find up on them/
Six a.m., daylight savings so it’s kind of dark/
He got his man to help/
So new wealth they can embark/
They parked at the gas station right across the street/
Load the bullets in the heat/
Make the money speak/
Here comes the truck/
Pulling up, just a minute til/
He holding the steel/
Giddy on how rich he feel/
And he ain’t even got a dollar in his pocket yet/
The first guard gets out/
Hammer he cocks it back/
He put the piece to his neck/
‘We need this money now!’/
The other guard, ‘Lay down/
Put your face to the ground’/
Ski mask for the task/
Prevent a good look/
But there’s a third guard/
He didn’t get a good look/
Next thing you know/
A barrel placed out the door/
One shot, two shot, then come three and four/
Daryl got hit in the back/
His man got his leg/
Daryl thought he was dead/
All he could see is red/
When the shot hit him/
Reflexes had pulled the trigger/
This wasn’t planned/
So his plan had gotten much bigger/
Now he got a dead guard/
A bullet in his spine/
His boy left him to rot/
Right there for one time/
The skinny is Daryl can’t walk/
Looking like my man from Oz in a cell in New York/