Losses

[Verse 1: Joell Ortiz]
We all took losses, workers to hood bosses
Nine to fivers drug dealers we all worship
Hood hoop stars could've went to the League
But they whole game went to the weed
Little girls trapped in the crib
On the strength of they seed
Some older niggas
Had her bent in the V
She was used to the Reeboks
But he got, them rims that keep moving
When the V stop
So when the V stop, she stop, she got right
Took flight
Now her little daughter need socks
And her grandmother need rocks
Cause she a victim of these street blocks
The hood is a wall
And it's not made of sheet rock
Its made of project bricks
Elevators full of project piss
Incinerators is the project's snitch
That's where you find old WIC checks
And notices from housing
Cause Miss Malcolm ain't paid her rent yet

[Chorus: Tina Estes]
I can't go back
I've got to stay on track
Let go to gain back
Baby baby, you can't stop

I can't go back
I've got to stay on track
Let go to gain back
Baby baby, you can't stop

[Verse 2: Mega Ran]
I'm from a place called Illadel
Where real killers dwell
Dealers sell
Keep the hook on lock
Like Citadels
Imagine a war zone, nobody wants to leave
Younger G's stay busting shots
At the summer league
And shorty twenty-three no job with five kids
Inviting all types of men up in her mom's crib
We ain't convicts, just trying to survive this
My kids might've responded
Like Trayvon did
Try to explain it to my students
Out in phoenix
They ain't squeamish cause they seen it
And it's not hard to believe it
Took losses, when my cousin hit that pipe
I spit portraits: I'll never forget that night
And cats might think I left town
Cause I couldn't make it
On the contrary
I left because I couldn't take it
The murderers and the rapists
Corrupt police and their fakeness
I pray that you find peace
Before the day that you meet your maker

[Chorus: Tina Estes]
I can't go back
I've got to stay on track
Let go to gain back
Baby baby, you can't stop

I can't go back
I've got to stay on track
Let go to gain back
Baby baby, you can't stop

[Verse 3: Murs]
You know what's crazy
And I never took the time to trip?
I ain't seen a crackhead
Since like 'ninety-six
My lil homies sling pills to get that shiny shit
Whether it's Nike kicks or designer whips
They sell to White girls wit Botox inside their lips
But when it come to red and blue
They on that grimy shit
I know a gang of bloods
And all kind of crips
That let shots fly like Hawkeye
When it's time to trip
But not as accurate cause accidents happen
A little girl struck by stray bullets
In her room napping
Some rappers glorify, but only more will die
My grandma in Kingdom Hall
Looking towards the sky
She looking for a why
I'm trying to show em how
You can come up from these streets
And still make it out
Right now we need soldiers
We don't need bosses
We gotta take a stand
I'm sick of taking losses