You may be any race or color, but it don’t matter;
If you grow up in the slums, you could get splattered.
All over someone’s wall, in the bedroom,
In the bathroom, or the hall.
You told your mother to be proud,
And you’re still messing with the wrong crowd.
For what and for why;
Who really knows, guy?
You said, “I’m goin’ ta get educated,
get outta this place and get a job.” Yet nothin’s related.
At 10th grade you quit school;
All your friends thought you were cool.
Doin’ drugs, Messin’ wit thugs;
It just don’t click, did ya wanna die?
You made the mistake;
Yet your family loses.
wil becker
1991
