Post by Ghost Boy on Jan 6, 2006 21:22:45 GMT -5
Wrote this one night when I couldn't sleep...
So much happened in these past five years./
With all the bloodshed, so much pain, and many tears./
Yet all these rappers, and writers, actin like they some thugs./
But if they really was, you think theyd rap about money, sex, and drugs?/
Theyd be rappin bout gettin right, better off talkin bout the bible./
Lettin off about religion, all about love, guns, and survivol./
And last year, one of my niggas done killed somebody.
Was a young dude, wanna act so rude, but he didnt wanna feel that shotty./
And this year, one of my girlfriends was raped, and them niggas burned her./
So when I sent that mail to jail, young nigga was talkin bout plottin that murder./
Now pay attention, nigga.../
Cuz I aint that type that be knockin on wood./
Cuz its hard tryna hope that the shits all good, when you know that theres wars in hood./
So I brace myself when I go to work, and I tryda stay on my feets./
Gotta make my pay in a better way, cuz I gotta make it off these streets./
And lord if I can make it through next month, without goin to prison./
I swear to you, and all the jews, that Ill become a christian./
But just incase it dont work out, tell mama that I love her./
And all my peeps out on these streets, Ill see you all next summer./
So much happened in these past five years./
With all the bloodshed, so much pain, and many tears./
Yet all these rappers, and writers, actin like they some thugs./
But if they really was, you think theyd rap about money, sex, and drugs?/
Theyd be rappin bout gettin right, better off talkin bout the bible./
Lettin off about religion, all about love, guns, and survivol./
And last year, one of my niggas done killed somebody.
Was a young dude, wanna act so rude, but he didnt wanna feel that shotty./
And this year, one of my girlfriends was raped, and them niggas burned her./
So when I sent that mail to jail, young nigga was talkin bout plottin that murder./
Now pay attention, nigga.../
Cuz I aint that type that be knockin on wood./
Cuz its hard tryna hope that the shits all good, when you know that theres wars in hood./
So I brace myself when I go to work, and I tryda stay on my feets./
Gotta make my pay in a better way, cuz I gotta make it off these streets./
And lord if I can make it through next month, without goin to prison./
I swear to you, and all the jews, that Ill become a christian./
But just incase it dont work out, tell mama that I love her./
And all my peeps out on these streets, Ill see you all next summer./