Streets Don't Love Us

The street uh leave you in a box; no office, no HBO
No cable, just a day room table and walkman radio
One in every three or so get cuffed up. A fucked up ratio
Every face it show the story of a former place we know
Or that we presently in; so regardless what President win
Hustlers still on that Interstate; that Residence Inn
On the road 'til that DA with a shitload of evidence win
Sitting in court as he watch you with a devilish grin
Wifey try to hold the tears in but it's getting under her skin
That her King 'bout to be doing years in the Federal Pen
For being the bread winner, the head nigga in charge
Being bigger than large; Smoking Loosies from Cuban Cigars
By the time he come home there might be humans on Mars
Too many crash dummies let fast money ruin their cars
And end up nowhere... Don't let this go in one ear out the other
Because these streets they don't care... These streets they don't care

The streets, they don't love us
The streets, they don't love us
Bodies on stretchers in white sheets under covers
The streets, they don't love us
The streets, they don't love us
You see the racks... Don't see the rats and Undercovers
The streets, they don't love us
The streets, they don't love us
Our daughters getting big; don't even know their own fathers
The streets they don't love us
The streets they don't love us
Gave our love away but the streets don't love us

Learn from Pac; both Biggie, King Von and Pop Smoke
The streets don't love us... The heat from the oven and hot stove
Is confirmation... Incarceration or casket top closed
Black rose, black clothes or judges with black robes
It's all by design; hitting black folks with black codes
To clip your wings... unless your skin was Blancos or lactose
To prevent the hood from seeing bank rows then Crack rose
No more Black Wall Street; just Bandos and trap phones
Now Reform... Peace to that man Hov and Van Jones
Can't "reform" slavery... The house still the house... Vandross
We gotta burn it down and rebuild from the bottom up
Find those that's out of luck and refill the bottom's cup
Because luck is an illusion... but blessings are real
My homey caught a gun charge even with his weapon concealed
They got technology now to detect the gat on you
The street you love uh be the ones to rat on you

The streets, they don't love us
The streets, they don't love us
Bodies on stretchers in white sheets under covers
The streets, they don't love us
The streets, they don't love us
You see the racks... Don't see the rats and Undercovers
The streets, they don't love us
The streets, they don't love us
Our daughters getting big; don't even know their own fathers
The streets they don't love us
The streets they don't love us
Gave our love away but the streets don't love us



Credits
Writer(s): Messiah Ramkissoon
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

Link