| Fuck the police, can’t wait to get from momma house
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| Hopped off the porch, old enough for some drama now
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| Pistol in his pocket, barely strong enough to cock it
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| But he ain’t scared to pop it, got a heart like Colossus
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| Momma ain’t home, daddy locked down
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| Still his gold chain swing, pants sagged down
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| He be clean, fresh Caesar
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| New jeans, new sneakers
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| Middle finger to his teachers, a rebellious young genius
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| Little Bobby Hutton, '09 version
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| Ready to touch something
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| No matter what
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| Determined to make his life worth something
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| Keeping it gangsta
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| Cause the young black male is in danger
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| One slip out here, these crackas will hang you
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| Only the strong survive
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| No choice, you gotta ride
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| Young in age but your mind is wise
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| Walking strong with a King Tut strut in your stride
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| Black pride and I’m young, hungry, born to survive
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| Don’t collide with him
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| Ya, I hear all that righteous shit you talkin' man, fuck that. |
| I gotta get out
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| here and get this money, man. |
| My daughter feet grow everyday. |
| I’m broke out
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| here. |
| Ain’t nobody giving me no jobs. |
| I gotta get it one way or another
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| Little child, little child
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| Runnin' wild, runnin' wild
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| Little child, runnin' wild
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| Whoah, ya
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| Hey, little child, little child
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| Runnin' wild
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| Little child, runnin' wild
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| Whoah, hey
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| Growing up in this world today is not easy to do
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| Either your choosing your path or your path will choose you
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| Lil' Khazi got big shoes to fill for his fam'
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| He’s so young it’s hard for him to understand
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| That he’s the man of the house
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| He know the time, his momma work overtime
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| And his attitude (a milli, a milli, is '09)
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| Go to school just to battle MC’s in the cafeteria
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| Fell asleep in third period to the theory
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| That the president is black so he should try to be that
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| Better yet, put a gat on your back and go to Iraq
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| But he already done chose a side
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| A bonafide People Army soldier rollin' for life
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| Mind sharp as that switch blade knife in his back pocket
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| Ain’t no crack in his sock
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| He got bigger dreams
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| And even more than money countin'
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| He ready to move mountains
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| The future Kwame Nkrumah
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| And he know it’s a dirty job but somebody gotta do it
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| Shoot, you gotta feel me man. |
| Not a day goes by it ain’t a shootout.
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| My gun is all I got in these streets. |
| I’m 'bout myself, and when I need help,
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| the only thing I can rely on is my gun game
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| I love to see the homies cliqued up, fists up
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| Khakis on, STAG bandana rag twist up
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| Hood pride, unified
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| G’d up, ride or die
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| Street tribe
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| Real soldiers don’t die, we multiply
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| You got people all around the world nodding their heads to what people are
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| saying. |
| So when you’re conscious of that, then ya know, you can do more than
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| just say, «this is a hustle», «I'm trying to make my bread» or «that broad got a big ass». |
| Come on. |
| There’s more important things in the world.
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| I know you and stic do it everyday |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Runnin' Wild , by - Dead Prez. Song from the album Pulse Of The People, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп