Tell me do you see that old lady aint it sad
Living out a bag, plus she's glad for the little things she has
And over there there's a lady, crack got her crazy
Guess she's given birth to a baby
I don't trip and let it fade me, from outta the frying pan
We're jumping to another form of slavery
Even now I keep discouraged
Wonder if they take it all back while I still keep the courage
I refuse to be a role model
I take hoes, keep control, drink out my own bottle
I make mistakes, I learn from everyone
And when its said and done
I bet this Brotha be a better one
If I'm upset, you don't stress
Never forget, that God hasn't finished with me yet
I feel his hand on my brain
When I write rhymes, I go blind, and let the lord do his thang
But I'm in less holy
Cuz I choose to puff a blunt and drink a beer with my homies
Before we find world peace
We gotta find peace in that war on the streets
My ghetto gospel
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