Lyrics
Night blows, stoves don't work, hoes at work
A warrior, so I wear 'em on my shirt
Wish I was free as Che was, I spend a day buzzed
Tripping on heights, wishing for Nikes in different flavors
The age of Kane and Big Daddy, short-body Caddys
Uncles named Larry, that really never grabbed me
My mother gave birth but she really never had me
Left to the hood to play daddy
Raised by niggas named Butch, Scoot or Bae-Bae
With weight so they weigh they status on the streets
License plates that say they, motto
This is Chicago in the heyday
Similar to Good Times, I guess that I was JJ
A skinny nigga, young girls with Penny figures
So many niggas, stacked upon each other
It's the black upon each other that we love so much
Wonder how many of us these drugs gonna touch
Used to gang bang, ain't really thug that much
Rather have some thick broads than a Dutch to clutch
Went to school in Baton Rouge for a couple of years
My college career got downed with a couple of beers
Came back home, now I gotta pay back loans
Same nigga, same block, same shit they own
Only thing different, quicker, they click that chrome
In my defense, yo, I had to hit that zone
Man to man, I'm good working with my hands
My generation never understood workin' for the man
And, of being broke I ain't a fan
Now I stand in the same spot, as my old man
My life I planned not to be on this corner
I still wanna see California
But this is my world
(It's your world) Yeah
(Oh, it's your world)
(Your world, your world)
(It's your world)
(It's your world)
(It's your world)
(Oh, it's your world)
(Your world, your world)
(It's your world) Yeah
Life and death blow around us
Four pounds and pounds of verb from out of towners
It's hard to stay grounded
We stay high, that's why old folks down us
Lost, nobody found us, the force that surrounds us
Ain't with us, they get us on the ground and hit us
We paint pictures of the chains under their names and scriptures
Removed from earth, only to return through birth
Knew this girl sellin' her body, wish she knew what it was worth
Between God and trash, lookin' in every car that pass
With a walk that suggests head, to milk niggas she was breastfed
She know dairy so she say cheese to get bread
In the area where it's more weaves and less dreads
Kinda scary, amongst thieves and base-heads
Said it was her toes, but I could tell her soul hurt
She was cold turk', growin' up she got to know hurt
Very well in a world where self-hate is overt
Her step-father that he was Ike, so her mother he strikes
She got to like like minded niggas, who liked crimes and figures
Doin' white lines and liquor, see hard times had kicked her
In the ass, it used to be thicker
Life is fast, some choose to be quicker
I remember in high school she had a passion to sing
Now she see herself in a casket in dreams
These are the children of crack and rap, Blacks that lack
Self-esteem, yo, we forgot the dream
On our Jefferson's y'all, but we forgot the theme
In the Chi, we even rootin' for a garbage team
This queen never seen herself on this corner
She still wanna see California
But this is her world
(It's your world) Yeah
(Oh, it's your world)
(Your world, your world)
(It's your world)
(It's your world)
(It's your world)
(Oh, it's your world)
(Your world, your world)
(It's your world)
I wanna be a pediatrician
I wanna be a governor
I want to be a artist
I want to be a veterinarian
I wanna be a model
I wanna be a doctor
I wanna be a ballet dancer
I wanna be a football player
I wanna be a astronaut
I wanna be a obstetrician
I wanna be a doctor
I wanna be a nurse
I want to be a gym teacher
I wanna be a fashion designer
I wanna be a architect
I want to be a duck
I wanna be a wrestler
I wanna be a dancer
I wanna be the first African-American female president
I wanna be a police officer
I wanna be a rock star
I wanna be a gymnastics teacher
I wanna be a captain of a police station
I wanna be a drummer
I wanna be an actress
I wanna be a superstar
Be, be here, be there, be that, be this
Be grateful for life, be grateful to life
Be gleeful everyday, for being the best swimmer among 500,000
Benign, be you, be mom's mean pie
Be little black Sambo with bad hair
Be aware of Willie Lynch-ism
Be, be boundless energy
Be a four star ghetto general, be no one except I
Be food for thought to the growing mind, be the author of your own horoscope
Be invited, be long-living, be forgiving, be not forgetful
Be a proud run, only to return to fight another day
Be peaceful if possible, but justice at any rate
Be high when you low, be on time but know when to go
Be cautious of the road to college, taking a detour through Vietnam or the Middle East
Be visual of foreclosure over your shoulder while beggin'
A nation built on free labor for reparation
Be a cartographer
A map maker, be able to find Afro-American land
Search thoroughly, it may be close to black land
Be amended 5/5ths, be amended 5/5ths human
Be the owner of more land than is set aside for wild life
Be Cupid to world government
Be found among the truth, lost tribe
Be at full strength when walking through the valley
Be not foolish as temporary king of the mountain top
Be a brilliant soul, sparkling in the galaxy while walking on earth
Be loved by God as much as God loved Gandhi and Martin Luther King
Be that last one of 144,000, be the resident of that twelfth house
Be, eternal