Problem Child, Pt. 1

These young niggas out here Catching bodies where I'm from They ain't catching yards They out Here catching charges Behind Them guns And they don't see no Problem Cause it's from all the Trauma that they learned And you Can't blame they mama She spent Most of her hours trying to work
He don't got nobody All he really Know is pain for real Some of us Was taught to love Most of us was Trained to kill Neighborhood Promoting violence We Aint have No chance to be a Kid How we Gon think about Being doctors When we was out Here trying to Live

Now he walk around with his head Down he a problem child
He just Want love for real
And when those problems keep on Piling up He can't keep those Problems down He just on top
Of that hill He think of suicide w
While loading up but He ain't got The soul enough Know its easier
To take a pill He start clutching While he rolling up And while he Think of all this stuff He might Turn that gun & shoot his self

Emotional, That's how you feel When you broken Problem Child,
You in the field or you DeRozan
It's like Nobody around
Until you dead or you wanted
Ain't nobody picking you
Until they feel like you chosen
So you force to pick yourself
While you still in charge of Scoring It's survival til the death
Ain't no towel you can throw in
They was sitting on the steps
He was out there in the open
With hands by his hip
Like he a cowboy or a Trojan
Safety That's what he lacked as he Got older The problem child
Ain't have no guidance or no Spokesman His past was wild
You'll think he was raised in a Forest The way he prey on his Opps Think he a Christian or a Muslim Victimized by his pops
It's hard for him to love a woman
Knew he was doomed from the Start Since he came out his mama Stomach She treated him like he a Prop She was trying to keep his Father She ain't love him from the Heart So he fell in love with Trouble He probably could've Been a star Dremond Drummond But he only he seen lights
When he was running
Thought he was hit When he heard the shots Bullets missed em by a thumbnail He ain't hit the ground or nothing He just his knees & went to Mumbling Trying to think of Something Thinking of a plan of Destruction He ain't see the things That was coming He was use to Thuggin Problem child don't even Show emotions

Now he walk around with his head Down He a problem child
He just Want love for real
And when those problems keep on Piling up He can't keep those Problems down He just
On top of that hill He think about Suicide while loadin up
But He ain't got the soul enough
It'll be easier to take a pill
He start clutching while he rolling Up And while he think of all this Stuff He might turn that gun & Shoot his self