Lyrics Target Market - Mr. J. Medeiros

Target Market

These kids don’t need guns these kids they need fathers
Seeds scholars who anti- freeze we cease dollars
Tease daughters new canned eye wheels are we martyrs?
We weak targets now am I real?
keep talking
We free markets for TV scum who see profit
When we prophet these things to come like we cosmic
We comic we speak these gums then we cock it
The heat rocket now we these sons that bleed stop it
Ain’t a man in a three piece lying in the street
With his hands on a piece peaced dying in the heat
Its a boy in a white T poor all his life
On the floor in his Nike’s pouring his life
Out a brain he ashamed of
Taught by the game if he came up
It gotta be the same way his man done
Nah brother its all an image for over privileged
Yall numbers the owners divots on summer visits
Play the victim the role of the tyrant life
Play the sitcom cus we all like violence right?
Nah not in this gated community
Who’s getting paid in this jaded commune «Its me!»
Say the Inc.'s, the C.O.'s, the Com’s, the Tom’s
The C.E.O.'s, the «MTV YO’s» is gone
The mp 3 woe is me the whole song
Leaving empty seats in these homes for so long
And it goes on cus we frozen for gold charms
Behold arms grown so cold to hold on
To our global positioning is hopelessly wishing
That our social conditioning ain’t blown our listening ears
If I gotta stand alone I’m here
Though as a man I am known for fear
I’m also known for faith
The awful truth is that we’ve thrown the race
If in our youth we ain’t shown a strength
And a place we can grow in safety
18 and he own a Mercedes
He bake fiends and he known to the ladies
A day dream sold to him own loan from Hades
This hate seems to have cloned these babies
Listen up now
Play the victim the role of the tyrant life
Play the sitcom cus we all like violence right?
Nah not in this gated community
Who’s getting paid in this jaded commune «Its me!»
Say the street wear jocks selling Glocks on T’s
Who pay to keep their lock on a novelty
Half these guys be the ones on a shopping spree
To advertise these guns on the block for free
While Mr. Glock come to cop a plea
Like «What?»
«Everybody got a stock in me!»
Now bruh you ain’t gotta be Socrates
To know the stock you bought make the market bleed
Nahmean, talk about a target market
Nahmean, when you walking out guard your pocket
Nahmean, them is all about the profit margin
When the projects starving be a carcass garden
In a heart less hardened lives a plan of God
And you can harness this power any land you on
And its a power you can’t really put a handle on
This hour is you man enough to stand unarmed