Child’s Gotta Gun

Eight twenty five, reluctantly he goes to school
Now he's a good kid, but today he won't play the fool
Tried to fit in, the last time he tried to be cool
Whispered words, no one heard but scuffling, cussing then now the news

Lost little sheep come back home, Reverend Bo Peep is on the phone
The newscast live at one, the child's gotta gun
Little bro' tripped, sticks and stones, hurt less than the words cut to the bone
The nеwscast live at one, the child's gotta gun

Elеven o five, showdown takes place by the gym
No one's got his back, except for his brother Rakim
It's seven 'gainst two, fourteen fists a brick and a knive
The two run where behind the stairs, homie and baby bro' had hid a tool
Quarter to twelve, the lunch room is stunned by a blast
Policemen rush in with guns drawn and no questions asked
Little bro's in the corner standing in shock, dazed and confused
Then cold as ice, they don't think twice
They shake him down shove him 'round same old news