Reflection Of Children Coming Up In The Grave

Reflection of children
Coming up in the grave

My childhood was hood, shit was real
My father was evil, he was a killer already
When he came here from Israel
Leaving us scared with a stare until it transformed
Into me putting fear into my peers, that's when the man forms
In the projects we used to beef with each other
'Cause our fucking parents were too ignorant to teach us better
I had thoughts on my mind of killing someone at nine
I actually went to do it, lucky for homeboy he backed down at the time
I could've been dolo and I'd still flip and get live
A lot of cats were truly bitch, they needed a clique to survive
Me and Bill had a rep for fucking D-sets up when they step
They crept deep like roaches and would catch you if you slept
Peaking around the projects buildings to see who's on the bench
Might be an enemy you'd have to blood-drench on the fence
Only thing we thought we was promised was dishonest careers
Beat down and robbed so many people I had bad karma for years

Controlled by my own rage, my attitude was like whatever
I never got fucked up by a kid my own age, ever
I was bolder screaming I'm cats, four years older
I'd take a loss then Bill would regulate 'em like a soldier
Forcing friends to stay out late after eight
Walking around the PJ's at night as a kid 'cause mom dukes had a date
Playing tackle football on iced-up concrete we did what we could
Older thugs would steal our football like Boyz-n-the-Hood
When I started thugging kids that were rugged became feeble
You could see how they suddenly bitched up when they saw evil
Growing up on Farragut even when innocent we weren't having it
Something me and my brother had enough, an arrogant
Me and my peeps kept it gully, we had enough
One year we made a resolution to take shit from no one no matter what
The circumstances no matter who they were they get murdered
A lot of people got fucked up over that shit and they all deserved it

Back in the days, moved into the projects at six
Got lost the first day I felt like a rat in a maze
Even in public school I hated kids that were squealing
The hustle skills I possess now come
From the foundation of drug dealing
Used to sit for hours weighing shit on a triple beam
I had cards made up for fiends to beat me, plus little schemes
In fifth grade punching teachers in the face
A derelict on the bleachers that never clicked with a peaceful face
Rocking blue suede Pumas copped from Church Ave
Utica fades and designs dipped in fly bird's cad
Boosting everything I could in shops
From Polo to Tower Records cassettes
Even when I got caught I wouldn't stop
Having cops put loaded guns to my chest
Threatening to kill me for no reason '
Cause the way we dressed was fresh
Used to love to get a reaction
When I'd whip out a gun or a twenty-four inch machete ready for action