| I came from a place I forgot
|
| I woke up in the parking lot, far from a meal and a cot
|
| On the corner where all the streets got the same name
|
| Maybe my brain’s on the brink of (INSANE!)
|
| Pain between the papers while sleepin on the train
|
| This the land of milk and honey (know what I’m sayin?!)
|
| The invisible man times three
|
| Black, down and out — out standin on a corner (no doubt)
|
| Now a nation of homeless sleepin in bus stations
|
| Another win for the pilgrims who said (NO MORE HAITIANS)
|
| As I proceed, someone to feed me is what I need
|
| (Three blocks of dealers tryin to hit me off with some weed)
|
| Yeah, avenues and boulevards hungry as a (FUCKER)
|
| Hope to get a ride from a (TRUCKER — aiyyo man)
|
| Everybody know I ain’t no (SUCKER)
|
| Every time I used to drop thirty at the (RUCKER — that’s it)
|
| Away from the crazy kids in Generation Wrecked
|
| Dissin pyramids while praisin projects
|
| (Walk past old folks gettin no respect!)
|
| Callin young folks a bunch a no-good rejects
|
| And I walk on
|
| An eye for an eye, I can’t recognize the man in the mirror
|
| Is it I? |
| It is I
|
| Now who this cat I’m lookin at?
|
| Cause I’ve been waitin so long, to get where I’m goin
|
| An eye for a eye, in this country 'tis of thee
|
| Now how the hell, can I be free
|
| And who this cat I’m lookin at?
|
| Cause I’ve been lost so long without anybody knowin
|
| + (Flavor Flav)
|
| So I move on (uh-huh) and I walk on (yeah-yeah!)
|
| Past the preachers and the pimps gettin their talk on (SAY WORD?!)
|
| Why do home gotta be where the negative roam
|
| To be or not to be (so I roll alone)
|
| I’m trapped within, this skin and these bones
|
| Amongst temporary kings, on cellular phones
|
| Can I last, as I walk past
|
| Mad cigarette billboards, and malt liquor ads
|
| (Walkin on da bottles and potato chip bags)
|
| Everyone I see got the nerve to brag
|
| Where they from, what they got, and don’t own squat
|
| Disrespect where they from and you might get shot
|
| Zombies askin me, what the latest bomb be
|
| (You shoulda shot the fuckin sheriff and the fuckin deputy G!)
|
| For okayin the drug trade and lettin it be
|
| But I know prison for me, is an industry
|
| So I walk, heard the best things in life be free
|
| (Didn't God make this land and the air that we breathe)
|
| Not for the homeless, don’t give a damn about me
|
| In the mirror somebody else is starin at me
|
| Maybe prison is the skin I’m within
|
| All this time I been sufferin can’t fix it with a Bufferin
|
| Plus they said I’ll never work in this town again (God damn!)
|
| So I keep on walkin — yeah
|
| + (Flavor Flav)
|
| Lil' DayDay is Big Day and just did time
|
| Seen him standin (on the unemployment line?!)
|
| Which collided with the line of the health clinic
|
| I seen Crazy Stacy, her ass standin up in it
|
| No more welfare, they cut her Medicaid
|
| (DAMN! My momma used to do her braids)
|
| I keep walkin, so they don’t see me
|
| But I doubt if they doin much better than me
|
| So I walk on, never take the planet for granted
|
| I paved the concrete, asphalt and granite
|
| I walked past three brothers, sittin on the porch
|
| With a yard of dirt, and littered with Newports
|
| Talkin how they comin up while they sittin on they ass
|
| As I walk past 'em I’m the target of they laughs
|
| And one said «Let's get him for his fuckin stash»
|
| As I walked fast, past the other yards with grass
|
| Had a little cash, I tried to make it last
|
| From a few deals I made from cleanin windshields
|
| I ran like a (rally) they caught me in the (alley)
|
| Can’t get out the ghetto from New York to (Cali)
|
| I thought I had nothin, 'til I felt the knife
|
| And now I ain’t even got a life… |