Mother, why are you crying?  
Have you looked out your window and seen your baby son?  
Thirteen years old...sellin' crack on the corner...
pockets full of cash... and carrying a gun!

You've raised three kids all on your own...
two of them are grown, they made it through without a scar...
the youngest one,  however...well he's another story...
last week... he jacked another car.  
Mother...enough is enough...
he's takin' all that ganksta rap crap...a lil' too damn far.

So when he comes through your door all zooted and polluted...
tryin' to be the man...
braggin' 'bout all he can do for you...
puttin' dirty cash in your hand...
wipe the tears from your eyes and take a deep breath.  
Do it for him and do it for you...
do it like the old folks used to do.  
Grab a page from the past, 
grab whatever's available and...BEAT THAT ASS, BEAT THAT ASS.
Beat him like a runaway slave, 
beat him like you tryin' to save him from an early grave...
BEAT THAT ASS, BEAT THAT ASS.  
Beat it till it's black and blue...
it didn't hurt me and didn't kill you...
how you think your other kids got through!

To hell with Child Welfare, The Cops and DSS...
where are they...when you're takin' all his mess...
The worlds all too crazy and parents have gotten way too lazy.  
Let's get back to the basics...like Mother Knows Best...
Spare the Rod, Spoil the Child.  
So Mama, Break his ass off a lil' sup 'em, sup 'em...
let him see yo' Freaky Style...
show him he ain't the only one... 
who can really get buckwile'.

When you tire...you think he's had enough and all is said and done...
you've caught up with your breath from chasin' him...
because he tried to run...
hold him closely and tell him you still love him...
cause he's only thirteen and still your baby son.