“Amerikkklan Dream”

[Verse]
I’m a project baby, a product of my environment
We used to ride around on bikes looking for open cars
I cut my arm on a broken handle, that’s how I got these scars
We were good boys playing in a bad world
Life was hard
This was before we knew anything about touching girls
Too scared to approach em, I guess that stuck with me
Cus seven years later and I still get anxiety
But back to life in the projects, never a sleepy Sunday
When them shells hit the ground it was always a fun day
Using fingers like we did it, Reenacting our own villains
Latеr that afternoon they still was spinning, yeah that lеad spitting
“I heard he ain’t die” that’s what my friend said while grinning
He had this obsession with death, I think I know where I get it
He had got shot a couple times, his body flipping like a dime
The way he fell was so mesmerizing, so sublime
They hit the corner in a knick of time, he’d surely be dead
Every bullet touched every part except his head
Some say luck but I don’t know, I think he’s paralyzed
Victim of the streets, a product of all the poverty
We had to overcome it, we moved out like we hit the lottery
Into a set of apartments that had gates, hold up wait
This ain’t the end, far from it, happy endings only come a dime a dozen
“American dream” it’s all bullshit preached from a patriotic pulpit
The last time I believed in America, it caused hysteria
The police searching areas, to find anything to fit the suspect’s criteria
We all look the same, so who’s to blame, “Do you gang bang?”
“Do let that thang hang?” she asked me that when I was eight
Before I knew anything about my race or seen a cop’s face
I guess I fit the description, a white cop steady on mission
They let us go, but that altercation I wasn’t forgeting
You can take a nigga out the projects but it’s still within him
You can take a niggas rights but it’s still won't kill him
We are inevitable, crack flows, drug dealers checking they schedules
The first and fifteenth is when everybody overindulges
Eating crab legs yeah we was on some splurges, and purges
Food stamps hit and now everybody lit, can you believe it
Niggas get mad and bend the block now everybody hit, we can’t have shit so what’s the use of even having it
They were a product of our environment, they won’t reach the age of twenty let alone retirement
But it’s okay cus everybody going to Heaven, everybody keeps a weapon, everybody really stepping, yea
It’s too many fake people out here for that assumption
You fuck with me or my family them rounds get to dumping
I show no mercy for a pussy nigga I’ll pull the trigger
Like it's nothing
Because it is
Murder's all the rage
Youngins get to dumping
Mags on the ground you would think it's Easter Sunday
But remember what I said it ain't never a sleepy Sunday
So when he spun I ran like my life was on it's last one
Cus it is
I still don't know what I did
Wrong place wrong time, I guess that's how it is
These cold streets swallowed my father long ago
It's crazy to think that I'm walking down that road
At thirteen he was charged with attempted murder
At thirteen I was playing with toys under the cover
At seventeen focused on bigger dreams
Bursting at the seams
But It's okay I was taught to make a way
I ain't gone say I grew up hearing gunshots everyday
But it was pretty frequent, like a couple yards away
Imma wrap this song up let's get this out the way