(WILSON)
Well Its the hip, is the hop
Its the dip, its the wop
Its the shit that we talk
Its the pick, its the lock
Its the kids on the blocks with their hands in their pockets and their souls in their socks
Its the crack, its the rock
Its the failure to talk, with the moms and the pops
Its the access to Glocks that make them snap back and cock
Its the straight way to the top, they raise to take aim at cops, while the people that can make a difference place blame and watch

(WILSON)
Its the nеver ending vicious cycle quick to bitе you back if you ain't watching yours your not of course conscious to this fact that we lack a certain third eye to see that power (cell?) just oblivious its barely cracked the outer shell
Its the sour smell *sniff* of poverty while (?) passin' go to collect from these monopolies complex like astrology but I know inside of me, even I got the will to be committing armed robbery
So I reach to god, helplessly but we ain't spoken since I was forced to go to church and stand behind my picket fence to everyone
Its just mista smoke that hocus pocus shit, call me a hypocrite but at least I noticed it
Too many people are scared to address the problems, take a guess, its cause only have the populations got 'em
So my heart stays throbbing for these people left in coffins, six feet deep in the street, that's rock bottom

(WILSON)
Well Its the hip, is the hop
Its the dip, its the wop
Its the shit that we talk
Its the pick, its the lock
Its the kids on the blocks with their hands in their pockets and their souls in their socks
Its the crack, its the rock
Its the failure to talk, with the moms and the pops
Its the access to Glocks that make them snap back and cock
Its the straight way to the top, they raise to take aim at cops, while the people that can make a difference place blame and watch
(PEPE)
Its the bullshit, drama, everybody frontin', always saying something but they never doing nothing
Its the five year old child in Uganda with a problem while you smoking marijuana and pretending that you got 'em
Its the sunrise, and the sunset, its the standards that they set that make you settle for less
Its the cigarette stress sagging glaze of a store clerk, tryna get paid to replace his kids torn shirt
But oh well, its tomorrow the day, and don't you know he went and drank his daughters dollars away
Now he's sitting on a cop car, sippin' off a Rockstar, mixed with some Monarch
But that's not our problem, we got our lives to live and what we doing right now effects the lives of our kids
I'm just tryna be happy I ain't tryna be rich, but if you don't make sense then you ain't worth shit kid

(WILSON)
Its the hip, is the hop
Its the dip, its the wop
Its the shit that we talk
Its the pick, its the lock
Its the kids on the blocks with their hands in their pockets and their souls in their socks
Its the crack, its the rock
Its the failure to talk, with the moms and the pops
Its the access to Glocks that make them snap back and cock
Its the straight way to the top, they raise to take aim at cops, while the people that can make a difference place blame and watch

(JESTER)
Its the alcohol addiction and the marijuana smoke
Its the nights when I'm holding tokes sayin I wanna joke, its the girls
The broken relations that we be facing, of music making, I ain't amused by any faking, while many blatant, they sitting waiting, procrastinating, I'm meditating, and navigatin', through Satan
While y'all be moving the rhythms without a vision, dismissin' what you were given for your living that ain't the biz
But are you sitting a victim will have you risen
My brother said that once he was in prison, that's when he listened so I envision that living condition image, I'm sitting, and I'm repenting any blemish until I finish
I drink the water from the fountain of life, replenish
I'm thinking father in the town when the lights diminish
Hoping we don't get stuck with our hands up, but if we do then we wave 'em to the anthem
(WILSON)
Its the hip, is the hop
Its the dip, its the wop
Its the shit that we talk
Its the pick, its the lock
Its the kids on the blocks with their hands in their pockets and their souls in their socks
Its the crack, its the rock
Its the failure to talk, with the moms and the pops
Its the access to Glocks that make them snap back and cock
Its the straight way to the top, they raise to take aim at cops, while the people that can make a difference place blame and watch
(and oh well)
(oh well)
(and oh well)
(oh well)