I can hear sirens
helicopters and high beams
the tensions is rising,
fools keeping their pipes clean
a dollar n’ a dream and everyone wants nice things.
The kid was only nineteen,
hole in his chest now he’s fighting
for his last breath; he’s seeing death- it’s frightening,
the grip on the ghetto is tightening.
You do the right thing n’ they do you just like king. n
Now I can hear the nights scream,
sirens and light beam, popping off shots
hittin’ people they didn’t mean to peg off,
now the whole hoods in shock
the blocks extremely hot another black teen shot.
n’ he got good grades
worked at a minimum wage,
now he’s laying on that stretcher with nothing good to say,
to the ghetto, and what ever ghetto you at,
just don’t love the ghetto,
because the ghetto don’t love you back.