Oct. 28, 2013

Til I'm Gone

From Redemption by Ray Jones (author's profile)


Wrote: 2010
Song: 'Til I'm Gone
Album: Dungen Musik

Haven 2 walk, away from proz,
dat be all, on my tip,
not wantn 2 think, of what dey'll do,
if a hustla, got killed...
Maken money, tryna survive,
comen up, out da slumz,
thinkn what would, da world be like,
without pistolz & drugz...
N da pigz, alwayz on my tip,
wantn 2 throw me, n jailz,
n bekuz I'm blakk, I should be punishd,
thinkn dis, just like hell...
Wantn 2 live, someplace betta,
dan dis racist ass land,
who done wiped out, all my people,
n brainwashd, all our kidz...
Who be imitaten, what dey see,
aktn like, someone else,
falln victim, 2 bakward ways,
not tryna uplift, dey selves...
N find out, how we being played,
since da beginning, of time,
n our women, turning against us,
wantn 2 be, n spotlitez...
Thinkn about, what God would do,
n not da one, n da bible,
but da one, over all dis stuff,
who feelz my pain, n da ghetto...
N I just want, da world 2 know,
when u bumpn my songz,
dat every day, I'm n da streetz,
puttn it down, til I'm gone...

Liven n a world, dat'z full of greed,
hate, lying, & killing,
tryna skool, all my people dying,
gettn trappd, n da system...
But no matter, what I be spittn,
dey on da blok, pushn crumbz,
gettn time, while dey chix is cheatn,
puttn it down, til I'm gone...

Da last albumz, u foolz heard,
was just me, warmn up,
hopen 2 God, he let me serve u,
befo I'm gone, n da dirt...
N u bumpn dis, song right here,
2 see what all, I been thru,
haven 2 blast, or get blasted,
running da streetz, wit my kru...
Thinkn why, should I go 2 hell,
when everything, dat I done,
was 2 cast off, deze demonz haten,
n put food, n my stomache...
Growing up, n dis kruel ass world,
where people worser dan me,
wantn 2 see, my people lenched,
n motherz raped, n da streetz...
Wantn our songz, on da radio,
2 glamorize, slangn drugz,
so dey can kill, & lock us up,
n daughterz, strippn n klubz...
But I betcha, fanz skip dis trakk,
not tryna hear, da real truth,
remaining blind & playn dumb,
2 what I spit, n da booth...
Only concernd, about how u liven,
n maken pactz, wit da devil,
kuz when it's tyme, foe us 2 go,
let's see who all, goes 2 heaven...
N even if, I'm right or wrong,
jus keep dis, on yo dome,
dat every nite, I come 2 party,
puttn it down, til I'm gone...

Wantn everybody, 2 think about
dis real shyt, I'm spittn,
wondern if, der'z life after death,
or jus no more existence...
N da pigz, wanna lock me up,
not lettn us, make parole,
sayn we a threat, 2 dey society,
4 only tryna get doe...
N I don't claim, 2 know everything,
I jus grew up, n da ghetto,
being stereotyped, by da world,
dat believe, n da devil...
Dey see me balln, n can't wait,
until I fall, on my bakk,
kuz dey pissed, I'm liven large,
n don't have 2, do jakk...
So dey wish, dat I get locked up,
or either killed, n da streetz,
kuz I came up, from haven nathan,
2 every nite, maken geez...
N u know, dey not tryna listen,
2 da shyt, I be kickn,
only wantn 2 go out hustlen,
da fast life, 4 mill tiketz...
Where da prisonz, is gettn pakked,
n full of racist ass laws,
aktn like dey, da Klu Klux Klan,
n wishn all, us blaxx fall...
Hopen dey lay me, n a casket,
wit a pound & my bong,
hear people, still play my jamz,
after a "G", dead & gone...


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