| To the ink on the paper from the top of the brain
|
| Ghetto youth zone rythms that are louder than pain
|
| From Suedo to Cali it’s all the same, people in chains
|
| Where eight year old Children cock it back and take aim
|
| See, just the other day I was catchin' a cab
|
| The driver came from his country to America to grab
|
| A slice of the pie, he said my people haven’t seen
|
| The extremeness of hard times, I said «what you mean?»
|
| He said it’s people in his country that would love to live
|
| Inside these ghetto’s, they live inside of shacks, and the kids
|
| Don’t see any kinds of education, boys and girls
|
| Starve and die, and no money when your country is third world
|
| I said «I yearn for change all over the map
|
| From a system deeply rooted in hate, it sets traps
|
| Crack, liquor stores, guns, plus our culture was robbed
|
| And we was sought, self-hated, major belief that God
|
| Was outside, denied free thought, feelin' the pressure
|
| Of the hellish eternity visions of, the oppressor
|
| With the long white beard, lookin' down I keep, hopin' it
|
| 'll change 'til then, please don’t expect me to get over it»
|
| Before I bounced out, I said «Peace, love
|
| Ain’t no reason why nobody need to suffer in pov-
|
| Erty, while others gettin' richer it’s the same old song»
|
| Before I closed the door and bounced I told him «change gon' come»
|
| See I know they don’t tell us that we really of Gods
|
| Dwellin' in infinity, through the power of now
|
| I spread the good Karma out, grab a pen a sheet
|
| And empty out my mind, so the ancestors can speak through me
|
| I tweak the beats, rock, eat the beats up
|
| Dwellin' in the Fourth Dimension of spirit I’m Goin' Up
|
| And it can’t stop, don’t stop, won’t stop, ain’t gon' stop
|
| Aim for the top, straight blowin' up
|
| It’s like that (That's whassup) |