
Date of issue: 07.05.2007
Record label: Rhymesayers Entertainment
Song language: English
Look Of Pain |
That’s the look of pain |
You never want to see |
When a ghetto youth finds out |
His dreams my never be |
Verse One: |
I’ve seen crack sales in broad daylight on park benches |
Old folks watch it from the windows in they kitchens |
Convinced the police don’t care and won’t listen |
Hopin' that they got some under covers takin' pictures |
They ain’t tryin' to be the ones that gotta save the system |
For every five thugs, maybe one will go to prison |
The other four are left to intimidate the witness |
Go to trial against them and you might come up missin' |
Lookin' at the odds it’s a no brain decision |
Unless you wanna jeopardize your family and children |
And so they keep their eyes closed, continue feedin' kittens |
And open up their blinds again, when the sale is finished |
They hope that dope don’t invade their fam |
But how would you cope if your moms was smokin' grams? |
See that’s what I be thinkin' when I bump into my man |
Gave him a bear hug and shook his cold hand |
Asked about the future, if he had a plan |
Aside from the hustlin' and corner store scams |
He said, «Life is hard», I said, «I understand» |
The weight of his home life was more than he could stand |
The oldest of four seeds, he’s only fifteen |
But everybody lookin' towards him to make the cream |
He said, enroll in college might help him to change things |
Managin' a smile while he spoke so painfully |
Then he started to choke up |
As if he woke up |
And realized that whatever he made his mom would smoke up |
Verse Two: |
It’s hard to stay optimistic as a ghetto youth |
When you can’t anticipate the days ahead of you |
It’s like, dope fiend next to you |
Gangs keep stressin' you |
Pharmacists operate the block makin' revenue |
They never get caught cause they know the cops schedules |
And every time you come home it’s like your mom questions you |
She don’t wanna see you on the street corner gettin' loot |
You told her that was something you would never do |
You concentrate on school |
Your grades exceptional |
You visualize yourself as a black professional |
Plus your girlfriend is in the same class as you |
But it’s drama when you walk her home after school |
These knuckleheads on the block they be harassin' you |
You say, «Chill» |
That you just passin' through |
You used to be cool with 'em but now they actin' new |
You crack jokes but they gettin' more mad at you |
Now they puttin' up their dukes so they can scrap with you |
And when it’s over |
You leave 'em ALL black and blue |
Now they talkin' about blastin' you |
Now they got guns chasin' after you |
You didn’t think that they would pull it |
But now you find yourself runnin' from the sound of stray bullets |
You get closer to the crib and start smilin' |
Felt somethin' in your back it was a bullet in a spinal column |
Now you startin' to bleed |
You blackin' out, it’s gettin' harder to see |
Name | Year |
---|---|
Take Your Time | 2008 |
Just Think | 2007 |
Printmatic | 2007 |
No Excuse For Lovin' | 2007 |
Candyland Part 2 | 2007 |
Intro | 2007 |
Fuckajob | 2007 |
Share This | 2007 |
1 Love | 2007 |
Right Place, Wrong Time | 2007 |
Inhale | 2007 |
The Jerry Springer Episode | 2007 |
Survival | 2007 |
Hand-Me-Downs | 2007 |
Candyland Part 3 | 2007 |
Run | 2007 |
Blame It On The Jager | 2007 |
The Cool Thing To Do | 2007 |
No Gimmicks | 2007 |
I Need My Minutes | 2007 |