Script my life through a pen, deep cut like the sharp end of a knife
Only God can judge us still some of my friends doing 10 to 25 to life

Bullets do not choose their victims, misdirection, evil intention
Similar suspects most moments, the hollow, luger or nine mill penetrate the innocent

Inherited beef, deadly borders, wars in Cpt hoods between different gangs,
in our areas we are slaves
Just to end up in the same graves

Brown men an endangered species, all I see is yellow type and dead bodies,
free and R.I.Ps next to coloured boys’ names
Government just sees us as a statistic, gang related, the media calling acts of genocide the numbers game