Yeah, I see you standing there
Think you're a man with that gun in your hand.
The hardness of the metal gives you a false erection,
While Joe politic, swears to get rid of you in the next election.
The poison you fight over won't serve you well.
You won't even have a name in prison or hell.
That glare in your eye, I have seen all too often,
All children do that, when they begin to soften.
So you pretend to be a man with that gun in your hand.

The life you took, has really got you shook,
Your Nana just begged, that you'd read her good book.
The sweat on your brow,
Says, "Lord I don't know how".
So you pretend to be a man with that gun in your hand.

Music playing so loud that you can't hear your heart beat.
That's why Biggie and Tupac also died in the street.
Where do you turn, where do you run
"Oh damn, I forgot, I got a gun!"
The blood on your clothes was second to none,
you see, that innocent Black Kid was my son.

Martin, Malcolm, Marcus, and Nat would agree,
Even they never faced this kind of killing spree.
In our Roots, it took a village to raise a child
Now all we have left, is the site, of a child gone wild.
I am the face of every Black Man and Woman
Who has hopes and dreams of time well spent.
Because we know our children are all heaven sent.
Now my dream is gone, because you're hell bent.
On being a man, with a gun in your hand.