It's all around us everywhere we look you see it everyday
my brotherman's smile is upside down going the wrong way
I dig deep and try to search for the cause
is the answer in the nine milli stuck in my drawers
or is it coincidence the projects is full of blacks
and when you're black and trying to get ahead they pull you back
we went from African kings to Martin Luther King
now they wanna make us all Rodney King
so they conspire to murder for hire
is the world just a big cup of water trying to douse the black
Focus lyrics

Single out the dyingMake more room for nothingMake it so that there is nowhere left to goYou can't buy your soul backYou won't own it everYou're just renting it until it rips you apartThere's a place where they go and they liefor the s
 fire
is it because I'm the man that you brought to this land
and rose above being labelled as a field head
I made hustle a trade in the ninth grade
figured out a way to get paid before I got laid
but either way I got my hands in a cuff
I got my grill guarded and I knuckle up cause it's real tough

How can I find who's the real divine
when everytime I take a book and take a look my strong mind sees a new sign
my black woman degrades me
so I grab the clothes, get the gun, kiss the kid and I get swayze
should I think about the baby at home a
Harvest lyrics

Did I see you down
in a young girl's town
With your mother in so much pain?
I was almost there
at the top of the stairs
With her screamin' in the rain.

Did she wake you up
to tell you that
It was only a change of plan?
Dream up, d
nd go back
or should I just say 'fuck it' and leave it alone
I'm on the road like Billy Jack never looking back
with the fat mack eleven in the backpack
will another man take my place and have my child screaming daddy
looking all in his face
or do I turn around and make it up
or do I let my pride take control and make it real tough

Who do I follow and who do I lead
do they really wanna help me or is it just greed
is everybody all for self to get wealth
the street wanna dust me off and throw me on the shelves
is he my man or is he trying t
All Hooked Up lyrics

C'mon on, c-c'mon
(Say what, say what)
Yo yo, there she go
Go girl with your fine ass

You keep askin' for my time
You keep tellin' me, that I'm fine!
Give me your number
I wont call!
Give me your pager too
Not at all will I call, 
o play me
or is he some hitman, somebody sent to lay me
can I turn a young black boy into a man
can I kick a rhyme and spread knowledge to a fan
or do I gotta play the role just to be like
like a whole lotta suckers I know that get the mic
do I let a label change me to something I'm not
and make records that cold flop whenever they drop
who do I blame if I'm not in succes
do I blame it on my pops that left when I was feeding on my momma's breast
or do I blame it on society
with all this black-white stuff, man this shit is real tough