Them some small ass niggas man
What happened to the realism God?
Keep it tight!
(Niggas, niggas ain't been, yo son
Niggas wasn't gettin beatins like we was gettin)
(Niggas wasn't playin knuckles now
Niggas ain't playin knuckles no more)
Niggas couldn't even, niggas couldn't even take a ass whippin
(Niggas playin piddy-pat)
Word up
Let's build this shit right here
Build this mountain of thought, thought process
Let's build these pyramids in the mental real quick
Knahmean, for real let's get it on
(You sufferin from the curse, black people changed for the worse)

[Pop The Brown Hornet]
Growin up I never thought it'd be like this
Them kids I used to run with they end up on my hit list
I remember when we used to rhyme
Now we shootin at each other with fully loaded nines
And crack got us buggin
No more lovin and huggin
It's strictly slug servin over turf
What's it all worth
See once you gone you gone and all your loved ones, they're left hurt
And brothers don't think no more
Cause all they want to see is war
Stupid mother, stupid mother pimped by America
And can't even see the realness
Get your act together, it's about to blaze
Republicans they got them Democrats in a daze
Cops are killin blacks more than ever
Blacks are killin blacks more than ever
We're blind in every which way shape and form
You better analyze that the revolution's on
They could care less about the black man's stress
I can't even walk the streets without a bulletproof vest
Bullets are flyin, black babies are dyin
Mothers are cryin but I'm still packin the iron
They say God works in mysterious ways
Well, so do the devil on a whole d

Writer : ROBERT BRIGGS, ISAAC BOOKER, JAVAHN BARRY
Copyright : Lyrics © BUG MUSIC