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Monday, April 24, 2006 - ore 20:08
And so it is
(categoria: " Vita Quotidiana ")
Treni in ritardo, americani, americane, australiane, italiani puzzoni, Anna a Milano Centrale, la Birmania nel mio stesso vagone...
Sono tornato. Non che ne avessi voglia.
GHETTO GOSPEL - 2PAC FEAT. ELTON JOHN
Uh..
Hit ’em with a little ghetto gospel
Those who wish to follow me (My ghetto gospel)
I welcome with my hands
and the red sun sinks at last
into the hills of gold
And peace to this young warrior
Without the sounds of guns
If I could recollect before my hood days
I’d sit and reminisce thinkin of bliss of the good days
I stop and stare at the younger my heart goes to ‘em
AIDS tested, it was stress that they under
And nowadays things change
Everyone’s ashamed of the youth, cuz the truth look strange
And for me it’s reversed, we left them a world that’s cursed and it hurts
Cuz any day they’ll push the button
And all good men like Malcolm X and Bobby Hutton died for nothin
Told em they could get teary, the world looks dreary
When you wipe your eyes see it clearly
There’s no need for you to fear me
If you take your time to hear me, maybe you can learn to cheer me
It aint about black or white, cuz we’re human
I hope we see the light before it’s ruined
My Ghetto Gospel
Those who wish to follow me (Ghetto gospel)
I welcome with my hands
and the red sun sinks at last
into the hills of gold
And peace to this young warrior
Without the sounds of guns
Tell me do you see that old lady, aint it sad?
Livin outta bags, but she’s glad for the little things she has
And over there there’s a lady
Crack got her crazy, yet she’s givin birth to a baby
I don’t trip and let it fade me
From outta the frying pan we jump into another form of slavery
Even now I get discouraged
Wonder if they take it all back, will I still keep the courage?
I refuse to be a role model
I set goals, stay in control, drink out my own bottles
I made mistakes but learned from every one
And when it’s said and done
I bet this brother be a better one
If I upset you don’t stress
Never forget, that God isn’t finished with me yet
I feel his hand on my brain
When I write rhymes I go blind and let the Lord do his thang
But am I less holy?
Cuz I chose to puff a blunt and drink a beer with my homies
Before we find world peace
We gotta find peace and end the war in the streets
My Ghetto Gospel
Those who wish to follow me (Yea, ghetto gospel)
I welcome with my hands
and the red sun sinks at last
into the hills of gold
And peace to this young worrier
Without the sounds of guns
Lord can you hear me speak?
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