ignited the minds of the young black and poor Behind enemy lines, my niggas is cellmates Most of the youth never escape the jail fate Super maximum camps will
history is rotten, the young, young and pure Grow dead and cold I don't need a book for saving, fellowship or days of praying Organizing means dilution
. Oh, you better pull them pants up, champ. Huh huh. You can't slip. Gots to be a gangsta, huh? Well, you can't slip! *creepy organ music* Yeah, a lot of young
I'd love to hear you whisper in the chapel in the moonlight That the lovelight in your eyes forever will shine Till the roses turn to ashes till the organ
ever give a young man the blues? Don't it ever get lonesome? Don't it ever make a young man wanna go back home? When the p.a. system eats it, And
Deep with the skills for the bills I got the million dollar mouthpiece with no gold grill I bring the thrill like Will Clark I will bust I will spark
Buddha-ism, Old School-ism or New School-ism If we're not schooling the youth WITH wisdom then the sins of the father will visit the children And that
buddha-ism, old school-ism or new school-ism If we're not schooling the youth with wisdom Then the sins of the father will visit the children And that
think about these sexy rappers that I wanna clap I'll probably go to jail fo' sending "50" to hell If I lay banks down yayo going tell Fatal' will help
from his eyes "It's already too late", he whispered "But that's certainly no reason to cry" (Dirty little secrets) "You see the last pioneer is waving his flag Framing the organ
DIFFERENT' as the devious Cat sidles up to him, commiserates, and convinces Ugly to join him for 'lunch' in his den. When Ida realizes her youngster is missing she organizes
together, son your beef is mine Let me start from the beginning, at the top of the list Know what I mean, have a situation like this Another war story from a thirsty young
real, still. you wanna give me hell up on tha telephone Tellin me, K-Roc please, stay home and get yo organ on Not for long, miss, I'm tired I will admit
crave You'll still be in the circus when I'm laughing Laughing in my grave When the old men do the fighting And the young men all look on And the young
gave us free will I feel that's what's stopping me 'cause I'm in Love with my skrill My mind is on deep meditation about me and God's separation I don't do His will
The people come and lay down on the ground They want to hear all the beautiful sounds Of the organ player But in the crowd is a bitter young man He can
when you in denial of self it is forbidden, that's the truth (*In due time, we will find*) Common-Verse 2: Let the truth be told from young souls
tryin to be Pun's sucessor That term's done fucka, what up whatever You bird's is food I'm about to pluck some feathers, I'm young and clever, Plus, clutch