For every black thought, i thought i caught roots
Or military personnel fatigues and boots,
Im a rapper through and through
Mama ain't raise no fool, true
All my niggas rolling, and we bout that gun play
Where they force us to learn a chapter of math a day
- - and now look, a crumbled country thin on prodigies,
If you see us in the club, we'll be actin' real nice
Im just a young buck trapped in the mind of a man in his mid 80's
Becoming a good rapper ain't that easy of a process
Like dead presidents a country leaderless and lawless,
Sometimes you buy the ring, with no problems you will love
Get a whole lot of you-know and she bald like an eagle
A country preachin' ideals of all breeds of people bein' equal
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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