everyone b livin their lives like they back in the 70's/
goin back to the style, as a type of remedy//
all of this change, is there a sign of signifance? /
too hard to handle it, its like a difficult predicament//
ever since they were born a young baby fetus/
they b wearin singlet with a label on it that says adidas//
when they growin' up they wearin the nike trackie dacks/
'n' wearin' they're favourite teams baseball caps/
playin on tha outdoor courts 'n' shootin some hoops/
while they laced up in a pair of converse boots//
all in the shape thats kinda thin, n standing real tall/
they scrimmaging with a red, white 'n' blue basketball//
they havin their hairstyle in a shape of an afro/
callin out to they're homies, 'yo wassup bro' /
'n' in tha corner of court is a little stereo//
but as they know it/ its called a boom box/
they listenin to the beats/ as the base drops/
they hear a siren/ n someone yells 'its tha cops'/
the court scrams/ like a huge bird flock/
they cant escape it, so they stick to there glocks/
and slowly they die pop by pop/
or cap by cap, it doesnt matter they all gettin shot//
so they try 'n' move on, advance to tha future/
but they just dont understand, they still gona shoot ya//