In these streets it’s hard to realize/
Looking thru distant eyes/
Cause genocide is why our mothers cry/
Brothas die but the street remains/
600 yrs of a slain slave/
It seems we aint capable to break the chain/
The face of the new generation won’t change/
When hatred is wealth/
An the night hides the stealth/
Look at what the hands of fate dealt/
Now going to jail makes you a man now/
See how it sounds simply unrashinel/
That’s why my mic is a hand held/
Project-in intellectual shrapnel/
To help brothas mix colors/
But how can we be one/
When the nature of man is to hate any one/
It seems we will never be at peace/
When half of you think you really free/
Cut off and numb wish-in for freedom/
But every day you prove you freely dumb/
Saving nations who worship which one/
If you looked at the sky/
Wont you'll see the same sun/
The same air to breathe/
Identical fish in the sea/
If you pricked a thousand emcees/
I guarantee each one would bleed.