Whatchu expect from one who smoke a joint with his mother?
Anointed hustlers in a fatherless region
Through the pain, wish they knew that God was just teachin'
We want decent homes, so dreams we say out loud
Like speaker phones, just to keep 'em on

It's like a colored song that keep keepin' on
I guess knowin' I'm weak is when I'm really bein' strong
Somehow through the dust, I could see the dawn
Like the Bishop Magic Juan that's why I write freedom songs
For the real people

I wonder if the spirits of Bob Marley and Haile Selassie
Watch me as the cops be tryna pop and lock me
They cocky, plus they mentality is Nazi
The way they treat blacks I wanna snap like paparazzi
We're the children of a better God searchin' for better jobs
We could cop ghetto cars tryin' not to catch a charge

They say the dope game is sour
Now they doin' homework that's when they follow you for hours
Come to your crib and devour all that you work for
Must be more than paper these niggaz hurt for
Through the purple haze I circle days I rhyme that work for pays
Tryna reverse the slave's mind and insert the brave mentality

Heard that it's drama at home
Can a dude break free and still get honored at home?
I was told by a chief it's the games nature
When you're glowin' some will love and some will hate ya
It's real people

Black men walking wit white girls on they arms
I be mad at 'em as if I know they mom's
Told to go beyond the surface a person's a person
When we lessen our women our condition seems to worsen

The weary cursin' the sky talkin' to themselves
Givin' they version of why help and hurt in they eye
I live across from it some of it I do be in
I be showin' niggaz lives like UPN it's real people

Yeah
For you and yours
Good music forever, yeah
Rock on, we keep on
Yeah, yeah, yeah, uh, yeah
The real