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  • Genre:Hip Hop & Rap
  • Year of Release:2018

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AK automatic, bullets in the attic

Strappin' like a Seal, but you fuckin' live in Dallas

We don’t understand it, no one's diplomatic

America the show, flip the channel for the action

Psycho with the tool, we just treat him like a fraction

N***a put him in a jacket, burn his body to the ashes

Film the fire while it happen, post it up without a caption

Got the super soaker legal, but the tree from mi amigo

Buy the ammo and the pistol, shot the clerk and all his people

Yeah, smoke a joint, they lock me up

Drink some liquor, get a buzz

Wake up with the felon thugs

Fuck the system, what the fuck!

Kids be killin' kids, you ain’t care until that kid is yours

White folk talk about it, nothing changes, like revolvin' doors

Maybe fuck a law, written way back by them dinosaurs

Hold up, let me paint a situation

Tracy feelin' good, first day back from the vacation

Wake up kinda late, chase the bus down from the station

See his boys up in the class, dab 'em up like NBA shit

Sit up in the back, catchin' up with conversation

And the teacher gettin' mad, “listen up boys, pay attention”

Sarah lookin' fine, got 'em feelin' the sensation

But the bell rings and it’s time, skippin' class at the location

Roll up gettin' high, pass the blunt in the rotation

Tracy terrified, cause he riskin' graduation

So he runnin’ back to class, right on time that n***a made it

Now he sittin' satisfiesd, think how his momma said it

“Don’t you fuck it up again, do it for me, graduate it”

Suddenly his body numb and the room begin to panic

Fuckin' Tommy in the back started sprayin' automatic

20 dead in class, on TV they call it tragic

Look around my n***a, word you lookin' for is “habit”

Damn, all you rappas sound the same

Lil this & lil that, same n***a different name

Guy fell into the game, now he bouta spark a flame

Yeah they let me out the chain, take a look what I became

Back in 93’ fuckin' Tupac said it best

Keep ya head up, never let up, keep ya head up out your chest

Now our children go to school with a pencil and a vest

And these rappas buy a tool just to flex it and impress

Fuck it (yeah)

Are the families coming back?

Fuck it (whoa)

Ain’t no warning if you black

Fuck it (whoa)

Ain’t no thinkin’, just attack

Fuck it (yeah)

Gambi laid on a track

It’s a cycle, people die, clean the mess and then forget

Got an AK-47, desert eagle, and a tech

Got an AR, got a pump, and a pistol on your bed

Huh yeah


"That's why I don't think it's a good idea, to carry a gun in the glove compartment

Cause chances are, if it's there, sooner or later, you're gonna use it

Course then again what are you gonna do if someone cuts you off on the freeway

Just let them go? You pretty much have to shoot them, you know"


Ey, ain’t no better way to do it

If he lookin' at you wrong, then I guess you gotta shot him

That’s the typa shit that lockin' children in a cell

17 years old with no guidance in the jail

Drop it like it’s hot up in the shower like Pharrell

Now some n***a feel your body like Ms. Keller did with Brail

Lock him up confused like a killer sent from hell

Then release him when they drained him of his innocence and his will

Shit, but that’s just another problem

Lockin' up the kids with no families or fathers

So they tryna strap a tool, find acceptance in a color

Just a bunch of little jits playin’ with the super soakers

Different city, different playground, but they all got super soakers

Just a bunch of little jits playin’ with the super soakers

Different city, different playground, but they all got super soakers

Different city, different playground, but they all got super soakers

Different city, different playground, but they all got super soakers


"They had their entire lives ahead of them. Birthdays. Graduations

Weddings. Kids of their own. Among the fallen were also teachers

Men and women who devoted their lives to helping our children fulfill their dreams

So our hearts are broken today"

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