5:49 am

A man walks a street with chalk in his reach

Outlines a body killed from a shotty’s breach

Outside the hotel lobby the corpse laid still

Drug deal gone wrong, 14 years dead, brain spills

Unfortunate, cameras had a panoramic view

Subordinate kid in the eyes of satanic crew

Drove by and popped him while he slew

Few minutes later a dude was walking too

The shop, saw his body get popped, called the cops

Now the block in a fragile state, no smiles await

The Wake is later on that week, his momma cry

His father died at age 9, drunk from the grapevine

It’s terrible a kid got shot for selling to make dimes

When he got shot, his life flashed before his eyes

He saw the light, the beaming of the Lord’s shine

Knew it was time, soon then the young shorty died

All taking place at five forty nine

 

Everything is connected

Same time, same place, same connection

Will we prolong or stay in the wrong

Will we get to the point or do a dance and song

What’s wrong

 

About a city away wakes up a young child

Rubbing his eyes, living in the now

The present, the state in which he resides

He wipes the cold from his eye, gets up to see

His father in the basement drunk from Hennessy

The young boys afraid, it’s a void in his brain

Tryna avoid his own dad from the noise he makes

He gets violent in this state, he tries to flee away

But his dad spots him stalking his ways

He rushed up to bed crying from his fate

His dad walks in his room, asking why he’s awake

He said please “don’t anything to me, father”

But the dad’s never hit him, only gets violent with objects

And right then and there the dad was moved offset

He realizes his action caused so much damage

He changed his ways right after, he began to manage

Better ways to live and and how to love all the time

A young boy fears for life at five forty nine

 

Everything is connected

Same time, same place, same connection

Will we prolong or stay in the wrong

Will we get to the point or do a dance and song

What’s wrong

 

The other part of the world shows a teenager

Wants to be a rapper, only way to make paper

He says fortune favours the bold, but gold

Hasn’t seen him, so he thinks he’s worthless

But still purchased equipment to spit verses

Going to the churches, praying for fine workin’

Inside the booth he’s spitting, going crazy

Channeling Jay-Z and all things he may be

He raps very cool, the producers are amused

“That’s the shit, man, keep doing what you do”

He said “thanks”, leaving the booth feeling great

Til he jacked for his mic and his things

Took his bling, everything but his clothes

He froze in the cold, he cried nonstop

Why couldn’t he make it, why’d God make him halt

Struggling to survive makes him mind deny the divine

Rejecting him further, burning fire burns inside

His life changed as he was jacked at five forty nine