Tell me do you see that old lady aint it sad
Living out a bag,
but she's glad for the little things she has
And over there there's a lady, crack got her crazy
Guess she's given birth to a baby
I don't trip and let it fade me,
from outta the frying pan
We jump into another form of slavery
Even now I keep discouraged
Wonder if they take it all back while
I still keep the courage
I refuse to be a role model
I set goals, take control, drink out my own bottle
I make mistakes, I learn from everyone
And when its said and done
I bet this Brotha be a better one
If I'm upset, you don't stress
Never forget, that God hasn't finished with me yet
I feel his hand on my brain
When I write rhymes,
I go blind, and let the lord do his thang
But am I less holy
Cuz I choose to puff a blunt
and drink a beer with my homies
Before we find world peace
We gotta find peace in that war on the streets
My ghetto gospel