Muzikal Dream

Message Of A Gun Pt. 2

Multiple gunshots ring outside/

As I laid on my bed thinking is this reality or is this just my mind/

Playing tricks on my conscience/

Those words haunted/

Me as I played and then rewind/

The same muthafuckin' song over and over as tears dried/

My face/

Cause I'm just realizing how no one could even try to replace/

Your space/

My heart stopped/

When I heard your casket drop/

I should've been more clear/

Of the fact that words do appear/

Bigger than they seem/

So I guess I should come clean/

Tyrone I'm sorry for those words they were mean/

Disrespectful and hate is not my theme/

That bullet found its way out of a round metal piece/

To your back/

Maybe your neck or head I don't know the exact/

Place/

But you're gone and not here and it's a fucking disgrace/

This is my homie Sarah's feeling everyday/

Bullets leave with only one trace/

And the community proceeds/

Never to relieve/

These streets/

Instead they leave these kids blind/

As they recite lines/

Off the radio and never do say "hey/

This is mace/

They only want to change the complexion of yo' face/

So when you look in the mirror you'll see a cell with holes in the walls/

To represent the guilt on yo' claws/

While they get paid from it all/

Only increasing the crime rate/

In every state"/

So as you read this rhyme/

I wanna try to elevate/

Yo' mind/

Take you to another time/

Where dark kids of all kind/

Could not go to school and fucking learn/

To us the library was extinct/

And if we tried it might've been the last day that we blinked/

Now we're in a society where education is free/

But we won't take it cause we're too simple-minded/

And the only time that/

That we're actually finding logic/

Is through court orders or parents try'na/

Control us/

But that media tells me to do otherwise and that's idol/

And his music is a rifle/

So in school I mainly trifle/

Well let me rephrase....you mainly trifle/

I was fourteen when I found what my pen do/

It's the only time/

I mention a nine/

Let these words be ammunition/

As I let them take you on a trip in/

My mind let that be the clip an'/

My spilled ink to be the trigger since/

My voice jams the whole configuration of a gun/

Many plagiarize/

Other people's lives/

I think it's funny how we'd rather live a lie/

Than be an angel that just sins when it does not even try/

Success is a dream that we'll never have/

If a bullet from a gun kills a kid after shattering glass