Little Weapon

[Intro: Lupe Fiasco] Now lil' Terry got a gun he got from the store He bought it with the money he got from his chores He robbed the candy shop, told her "Lay down on the floor Put the cookies in the bag, take the pennies out the drawer" Lil' Khalil got a gun he got from the rebels To kill the infidels and American devils A bomb on his waist, a mask on his face Prays five times a day and listens to heavy metal Little Alex got a gun he took from his dad That he snuck into school in his black book bag His black nail polish, black boots, and black hat He gon' blow away the bully that just pushed his ass [Verse 1: Lupe Fiasco] I killed another man today Shot him in his back as he ran away Then I blew up his hut with a hand grenade Cut his wife throat as she put her hands to pray Just five more dogs, then we can get a soccer ball That's what my commander say How old? Well I'm like ten, eleven Been fighting since I was like six or seven Now I don't know much about where I'm from But I know I strike fear everywhere I come Government want me dead so I wear my gun I really want the rocket launcher but I'm still too young This candy give me courage not to fear no one To feel no pain and hear no tongue So I hear no screams and I shed no tear If I'm in your dreams then your end is near, yeah [Chorus: Nikki Jean] Little weapon, little weapon, little weapon We're calling you There's a war, if the guns are just too tall for you We'll find you something small to use Little weapon, little weapon, little weapon We need you now, blaow! [Bridge: Lupe Fiasco] Astaghfirullah Astaghfirullah Astaghfirullah Astaghfirullah Astaghfirullah [Verse 2: Lupe Fiasco] Now here comes the march of the boy brigade A macabre parade of the toys he made In shemaghs and shades, who look half his age About half the size of the flags they wave And camouflage suits made to fit youths 'Cause the ones off the dead soldiers hang a lil' loose Where AK47s that they shooting into heaven Like they tryna kill a Jetson, the struggles, little recruits Cute, smileless, heartless, violent Childhood destroyed, devoid of all childish ways Can't write their own names Or read the words that's on they own graves Think you gangsta? Popped a few rounds? These kids'll come through and murder a whole town Then sit back and smoke and watch it burn down The grave gets deeper the further we go down, it's— [Chorus: Nikki Jean] Little weapon, little weapon, little weapon We're calling you There's a war, if the guns are just too tall for you We'll find you something small to use Little weapon, little weapon, little weapon We need you now, blaow! [Verse 3: Bishop G] Imagine if I had to console The families of those slain I slayed on game consoles I aim, I hold right trigger to squeeze Press up and Y, one less nigga breathe B for the bombs, press pause for your moms Make the room silent, she don't approve of violent games She leave, resume activity Scarred and blue heart, of hard, sharp wizardry On next part, I insert code To sweeten up the little person's murder workload I tell him he work for CIA with A A operative, I operate this game all day I hold the controller connected to the soldier With weapons on his shoulder He's only seconds older than me We playful but serious Now keep that on mind for online experience, ugh! [Chorus: Nikki Jean] Little weapon, little weapon, little weapon We're calling you There's a war, if the guns are just too tall for you We'll find you something small to use Little weapon, little weapon, little weapon We need you now Little weapon, little weapon, little weapon We're calling you There's a war, if the guns are just too tall for you We'll find you something small to use Little weapon, little weapon, little weapon We need you now, blaow!