I met a young brother, how young about eight He seemed intelligent and rather quite straight I greeted him, and struck a conversation To see if the youngster had some self-motivation Peace brother, what's your name, and how ya be He said I be soon coming off the currency I said gettin paid, he said yeah like my man's brother Who has a condo he shares with his baby's mother He said a condo beats my apartment With no lights and no gas and much backed up rent No hot water or heat, and invaded by plenty rats That'll eat up the average alleycat He said yeeahhhh boyyyeee, that's poverty I said word, I know and it bothers me Cuz we are the victims, of a situation How wicked man, seperated A nation and got us cold-killin off one another (Word-word, to the mother) It's getting hot, how hot, hotter than July Cuz the murder and crime rate is rising very high For example, in my neighborhood, it's so hot I'm often woke up, from the alarming sound of a shot So I'm thinking what, is my neighborhood a trap Could this be the place marked X on the map? Now I'm spotted like a target, in the shooting gallery So I start to seek for a better salary So I can escape from where, from this ghetto life area Cause everyday you're getting scarier *blam blam* and scarier and scarier Causing mass hysteria, it's drama Talkin bout drama
Not to be bold and disrespect the homeless Cuz I can see that they suffer from a long list From not having shelter, and out on the street Without a job and days without a bite to eat Yo I feel for those, but here's another side About some more people that's living on the outside Because of the fact that they chose the wrong way And it took em on a trip for a long day Got to the point you started stealing from your house Stalking the rooms late at night like a mouse Your family's upset and you've got to go When it's, five, below and we're ex-pecting snow And then you're on the train with a cup in your hand Kicking dirt, and making it look like sand Then after you run that game for a while You start sucking up tokens from out the turnstile Are you that desperate, just to get a hit Is it so effective that you won't quit, and yo Why do you come to me crying the blues? About you can't get a job, well, go sell some street news Then you can get straight and be real But you'd rather rob and steal And that's drama Talkin bout drama Not wonderama But I'm talkin bout drama Hear what I'm sayin? I'm not talkin bout your mama Nahhhh, but I'm talkin bout drama