He can't believe what's being made of his kid
He won't speak on it, it's the elephant in the room
His son roams the street like a thief in the night
He's stealing dreams, fucking bitches daily
Planting & aborting seeds like crazy
Young, wild, & reckless
While the old man can detect this
He neglects this
He used to be this li'l nigga
This li'l nigga has no guidance,
Pops let the streets raise his son
He was there physically, financially
But never tried mentally
Never tried to get to baby boy's head
Now it's too late, baby's boy's dead
These are daddy's thoughts at this casket
Niggas be a father, you killing your son
If the streets crazed you, let you be the only one
Your silence can be just as hurtful as the violence
Don't contribute to genocide
Raise your son, Get rid of the foolish pride
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