IRC-Galleria

Uh, hit them with a little ghetto gospel

refrain:
Those who wish to follow me (my ghetto gospel)
I welcome with my hands.
And the red sun sinks at last
into the hills of gold.
And peace to this young warrior,
Without the sound of guns.

If I could recollect before my hood days.
I'd sit and reminisce,
thinking and bliss on the good days.
I stop and stare at the younger,
my heart goes to 'em.
And nowadays, things changed.
Everyone's ashamed to the youth,
'cause the truth looks strange.
And for me it's reversed,
we left them a world that's cursed,
and it hurts.
Cause any day they'll push the button.
And all commend,
like Malcom X and Bobby Hunton, died for nothing.
Don't make me get teary, the world looks dreary.
When you wipe your eyes, seeing clearly.
There's no need for you to fear me.
If you take your time to hear me,
maybe you can learn to cheer me.
It ain't about black or white,
'cause we're human.
I hope we see the light before it's ruined.
My ghetto gospel.

refrain

Tell me do you see that old lady,
ain't it sad?
Living out of bags,
plus she's glad for the little things she has.
And over there there's a lady,
crack got her crazy.
Guess she's giving birth to a baby.
I don't trip and let 'em fade me,
We're dropping to another form of slavery.
Even now I keep discouraged.
Wonder if they take it all back,
Will I still keep the courage?
I refuse to be a role model.
I set goals, take control,
drink out my own bottles.
I made mistakes,
but learned from every one.
And when it's said and done.
I bet this brother be a better one.
If I 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 thing.
But am I less holy?
'Cause I choose to puff a blunt
and drink a beer with my homies.
Before we find world peace,
we gotta find peace in the war on the streets.
My ghetto gospel.

Those who wish to follow me (my ghetto gospel)
I welcome with my hands.
And the red sun sinks at last into the hills of gold.
And peace to this young warrior,
Without the sound of guns.

Lord can you hear me speak
Pay the price for being hellbound