My new nick name is nike people will kill for me and the innocent little negro kids are murdered in cold blood and they throw me on the power lines to symbolize that there soul will never die
and at the rate Baltimore is going will my nights be next blood splatters upon my nike checks mother distraught and under stress no longer able to see their child because bullets laid them to rest
4 shots hit his chest because i'm not just a shoe i stand for niggas killing each other dead bodies teddy bears and crying mothers do something to me deep down inside
not even an x ray could see we wanna scream cause we have something to say but we can't because things like this happen everyday
i look at the community like LeBron cause when the kid shoots he fades away kids in black hoodies step back and shoot like KD and you know they scoring shells lifting kids in the air higher than Jordan
No justice no peace but my brothers are using each other for target practice and we worry about the police his soul is now gone his soul is now dead so we feed him to the beast we call the streets instead
I look a black boy in the eyes and inside I see him eating hot Cheetos and an Arnold Palmer bullets then pierced his chest and they label him a goner this wouldn't have happened if he had a vest as his under armour
the paramedics pump his chest up like Reeboks a life ended with just three shots from somebody that looks like him not a damn cop a lost soul traveling down. A dark road with his heart cold and dark soul the same color of hot coals
Adults always say the generation is messed up but in actuality it's the generation before knowing we need help but instead these choose to scorn maybe not a wrinkle in time but yet a page torn
have the nerve to complain when it's all blood and gore but they do know the devil is playing a game of tug of war but you know what they all say
His soul is now gone his soul is now dead and we feed him to the beast we call the streets instead