Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Inner-City-Native-Son, artist - Blueprint. Album song 1988, in the genre Иностранный рок
Date of issue: 31.01.2007
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Rhymesayers Entertainment
Song language: English
Inner-City-Native-Son |
Just an inner-city-native-son |
Never learned to wait, taught to take it and run |
Some of us raised by the way of the gun |
All the drama we see makes us numb |
You can tell he’s seen alot for only 13 |
His wide eyes victimized, bite is a sting |
Never told his ancestors used to be kings |
Left to build himself outta what he can see |
That means stick-ball, basketball, hide and seek |
Fistfights, shoot-outs, and crack fiends |
The single mother had to work 60 hours a week |
Cleanin' offices, just so she can make ends meet |
And put clothes on his back and buy food to eat |
She spent time with him right before she went to sleep |
But over time he learned to lust for material things |
His only babysitter was the TV screen |
He was force fed pop culture, watchin' in silence |
Talk shows, curse words, sex and violence |
Used to coming home to an empty house |
Fallin' asleep waiting up for his mother on the couch |
Just an inner-city-native-son |
Never learned to wait, taught to take it and run |
Some of us raised by the way of the gun |
All the drama we see makes us numb |
He used to kick it with some other kids from down the block |
All of them was broke, one of them had a plot |
Said he was sick of being broke, sittin around and chillin' |
And that he had a surefire way of makin' a killin' |
Said that he steals old computers out of old buildins |
He already had a pawn shop to deal wit 'em |
Plus a man working security would open the door |
For 25 percent of all the money they saw |
If he was down to make some money they could roll with him |
He promised he would have him back at home by 10 |
The kid looks at his pocket then he looks at his kicks |
Looked up at his man and said «That plan sound sick» |
They all agreed to meet at 8PM the next day |
His boy that was 16 would drive getaway |
9 o’clock sharp, they pulled up at the place |
Wearing all black with a stocking cap on his face |
Just an inner-city-native-son |
Never learned to wait, taught to take it and run |
Some of us raised by the way of the gun |
All the drama we see makes us numb |
While they were snatching all the valuables right off of the desk |
Loading 'em down into the van without breaking a sweat |
A couple guys started feelin' overconfident |
Vandalizing other offices and making a mess |
They wasn’t scared cause they knew they still had 10 minutes |
While security changed shit and finished |
But before time was up, it seemed something went wrong |
They smelled smoke and heard the sound of the fire alarm |
They got scared, and since they didn’t want to get discovered |
The guys ran for the stairs as the smoke covered |
But in the stairwell they ran into a bunch of others |
Who was working in the building also running for cover |
They saw maintenance, house-cleaners and night-shift workers |
And in the chaos he got seperated from the others |
Pushing through he bumped into a old lady, knocked her over |
When he looked into her eyes. |
It was his mother |