His eyes bloodshot red
|
I watched him as he took a fifth of Henny to the head in memory of his brother
|
Reminiscing on them playing Sega with each other
|
He was hurting, I could see it, plenty tears, no Kleenex
|
I stood by his side because that was my homie
|
Gave him a hug, some of his brother blood got on me
|
Clenching his fists on some angry shit
|
Stood up, sat back down on the curb and asked me who they be hanging with
|
I wasn't sure so I gave him no answer
|
But I was sure that he had him a blammer and wanted war
|
Revenge, what do say to a good friend
|
that just lost it and grabbing choppers out the closet?
|
I tried my best to make him renege, but he was like my nig'
|
This feeling is more than personal
|
I stood down, he hopped in a hour-door Honda Accord
|
Before he bent the block he said K. Dot, you wouldn't understand
|
|
[Chorus]
|
These streets can turn a kid to killer in minutes
|
Not by choice, but forced to be a menace
|
Can someone just pray for me, or war
|
(Or at least, try to understand) the city pressure
|
The AK-47, twin MAC-11s
|
The Desert Eagle, shotty and the Smith & Wessons
|
Pray for me, or war
|
|
Corners become monuments for the dead
|
Candles on the pavement, postcard read
|
rest in peace, the yellow tape blocking off the streets
|
A baby momma yelling at the police
|
But you don't understand, you figure that we're just a bunch of niggas
|
But the picture is a story untold
|
See this wasn't in our plans
|
Babies from the late eighties wasn't born crazy, we was raised that way
|
Put that Malcolm X book down, then raised that K
|
Complete chaos when we off X pills and St. Ides
|
Look the Devil in the face from a saint eye
|
Cast a 'spell' on you like Akeelah and the Bee
|
Every killer in the street is a teen with a corrupted, mind
|
Substance, time is no longer an issue
|
We don't have it, so pass the tissue
|
Then close the casket, kiss the momma when you can
|
Then tell her you understand, but you don't understand
|
|
[Chorus]
|
These streets can turn a kid to killer in minutes
|
Not by choice, but forced to be a menace
|
Can someone just pray for me, or war
|
(And hopefully you'll understand) the city pressure
|
The AK-47, twin MAC-11s
|
The Desert Eagle, shotty and the Smith & Wessons
|
Pray for me, or war
|
|
He came back fifteen minutes later
|
He said, Dot I went on one, do me this favor
|
Dump these guns in a safe place, let nobody see you
|
This is critical as it gets my nigga, I need you
|
I said alright, so what happened? Seen a few niggas slipping
|
and I just started clapping, I didn't care who I was hitting
|
That's wild shit, but anyway, I got you
|
I love you my nigga, make sure you hit me up by tomorrow
|
I woke up the next morning with a cold
|
Allergies got me sneezing and wiping my nose when it was leaking
|
Checked the medicine cabinet, looking for some DayQuil
|
But all I seem was some aspirins, just my luck
|
I got up, went to Rite Aid
|
Hoping that the pharmacy department had the right aid, I bought it and left
|
Walked to the parking lot, that's when I seen the faces of death
|
Said they was looking for my man with a chopper in their hand
|
Praying that it would jam, but you don't understand
|
|
[Chorus]
|
These streets can turn a kid to killer in minutes
|
Not by choice, but forced to be a menace
|
Can someone just pray for me, or war
|
(Now tell me, do you understand?) the city pressure
|
The AK-47, twin MAC-11s (huh?)
|
The Desert Eagle, shotty and the Smith & Wessons (do you understand?)
|
Pray for me, or war
|
|
[Kendrick Lamar]
|
It's like, it's a revolving door
|
that I've been a part of my whole life
|
Fucked up right?
|
|
-----------------
|
Don't Understand
|
Kendrick Lamar |