[Chorus:] She don't know why But all she knows is that her youngest child is a real gangsta now you see...
[Verse 1:] He was a good kid all through elementary A's and B's and had no enemies But he saw all the G's as he walked home he couldn't read all the words on the walls though So many letters crossed out with X's He wondered but knew not to ask those questions No pops, and his mom worked to the nail She managed to buy him some shoes on sale She didn't know, she bought the wrong color And they stayed in the closet all summer Even though the kid wasn't affiliated He knew what they loved, and knew what they hated Now he's in Middle School, same individual But this is where things seem to get a bit difficult This is the life of a young Mexican First verse done take me to the second one
[Chorus x2]
[Verse 2:] 6th grade, why so much homework Got a pot pie sitting in the stove burnt Momma still ain't back from her job yet So he eats it cause that's all he got left Then he plays with his little puppy Cinnamon His last dog was a victim of a hit n run There's a knock on his door it's his homeboy Your mom's gone? He pulls out a chrome toy Where'd you get that from? The kid asked We broke into a house we got a bunch of shit stashed It was the first time he ever held a real gun To get one of these you gotta steal one We too young they won't let us buy a gat Now if they shoot at us we can fire back Who is they and why would they blast at me? Cause you from the hood fool, this is family
[Chorus x2]
[Verse 3:] A year passes now the kids Dickies sag In his pocket got a knife and a nickel bag And the homeboy that showed him his first gun Got killed last week in a burban Putting work in 45 jerkin' Lucky shot hit, popped like a virgin Closed casket touched as he strolled past it Got his name tattooed on two hoes asses So he'll still be remembered often while His little bitch gettin' hit doggy style It ain't stoppin' now while his moms' on the ground On her knees yelling "Please Lord not my child I want to watch him smile He can turn his Pac up loud He can sleep with his pitbull on the couch" And while the kid is listening to her words All he can think about is bloody, bloody murders
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Copy to Clipboard: [Chorus:] She don't know why But all she knows is that her youngest child is a real gangsta now you see...
[Verse 1:] He was a good kid all through elementary A's and B's and had no enemies But he saw all the G's as he walked home he couldn't read all the words on the walls though So many letters crossed out with X's He wondered but knew not to ask those questions No pops, and his mom worked to the nail She managed to buy him some shoes on sale She didn't know, she bought the wrong color And they stayed in the closet all summer Even though the kid wasn't affiliated He knew what they loved, and knew what they hated Now he's in Middle School, same individual But this is where things seem to get a bit difficult This is the life of a young Mexican First verse done take me to the second one
[Chorus x2]
[Verse 2:] 6th grade, why so much homework Got a pot pie sitting in the stove burnt Momma still ain't back from her job yet So he eats it cause that's all he got left Then he plays with his little puppy Cinnamon His last dog was a victim of a hit n run There's a knock on his door it's his homeboy Your mom's gone? He pulls out a chrome toy Where'd you get that from? The kid asked We broke into a house we got a bunch of shit stashed It was the first time he ever held a real gun To get one of these you gotta steal one We too young they won't let us buy a gat Now if they shoot at us we can fire back Who is they and why would they blast at me? Cause you from the hood fool, this is family
[Chorus x2]
[Verse 3:] A year passes now the kids Dickies sag In his pocket got a knife and a nickel bag And the homeboy that showed him his first gun Got killed last week in a burban Putting work in 45 jerkin' Lucky shot hit, popped like a virgin Closed casket touched as he strolled past it Got his name tattooed on two hoes asses So he'll still be remembered often while His little bitch gettin' hit doggy style It ain't stoppin' now while his moms' on the ground On her knees yelling "Please Lord not my child I want to watch him smile He can turn his Pac up loud He can sleep with his pitbull on the couch" And while the kid is listening to her words All he can think about is bloody, bloody murders
[Chorus x2]
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