The cry of a desperate mother, Daddy is at his wit's end
Granny don't know what to do with her kid's kids
Ritalin is failing him, tenth grade he failing it
Youth pastor bailing on him, teachers can't riddle him
Po-po can't find him, out with his cousins
Same streets that his tios and primos got killed in, hustling is built in.
To whom is he listening?
Not you! Lost all control of what influences him
Got his eye on her, her, and many miniskirts
Desperate for attention and showing them curves' works
Sent her to live with Auntie, she stay in the burbs
But her BFF is finna start workin' them curbs
What we call underage, pimps call them "early"
How you gon' compete? You barely making ends meet
This is where we come in, spittin' the truth and then
Sneak in they iPods, wait for the change and then
In a time when crime is glorified as if
Killing your own kind could get you deified
Or at least immortalized in monuments
Made of graffiti, the highest honor the hood could receive
When the foundation's destroyed and hearts of men are cold
And leaders are dropping like flies, look in my eyes
See the determination, muster up the bravery
Get tired of the sideline, the scrimmage line, homie
Lyrics provided by LRCLIB
