Born with a hunger make wolves out of children, But survival got more value than innocence.
Natty Roots…
First thing I learned was the sound of them sirens,
Second thing, don′t trust nobody smiling, Mama in the kitchen with the lights cut off,
Ashtray full of stress and the table heavy with loss,
Old heads on the corner peddling poison to the hopeless,
Talking bout dreams while they bagging up the dopest,
Young boys watching eyes big, swallowing knowledge,
Learning how to count crack money before lunch hours,
Saw a fiend sell his coat just to chase one hit,
Saw a good man vanish when the pipe got lit, Everybody got pain, everybody wearing scars,
Some dull it deep with needles, some hide it behind bars,
Block raised kings with no fathers around, So they learn from the hustlers holding weight in the town,
OG′s a little homie, either hustle or drown, Hard to chase dreams when survival weighing you down,
Natty Roots dig deep through the dirt and the ache,
Through them crooked deals, cold nights and hearts that break,
Trying to find a spark while the darkness creeps close,
Young souls living quick, selling dreams and those dope ghosts,
Natty Roots, still grow strong where the hate rights rules,
Natty Roots, holding hope like the last of us fools,
Sixteen rocks stuffed tight in his coat, Pocket school gave up fast,
But the streets said we got it, small flips, little grams,
Now he rides with a piece, hard heavy but cold,
Wrapped up in his beast, he don′t wanna rob,
Don′t wanna pull triggers, but baby sisters crying,
Mamas shivers in winters, fiends waiting like shadows,
Zombies lost in their chores, trading their souls,
Just for moments of calm before wars, He hates what he sells,
But addictions change, calling whole hood,
Drowning silent politicians, jaw talking best friend,
Calls slipping in turf wars, laid to rest,
He looks up to the sky, praying God′s got next,
Money′s a cage, black bars behind brick walls,
No freedom here, just another rise and fall,
See the hood don′t craft evil, it′s scoped survival,
Some kids inherit cash, some get violence,
Tribal even buried in shadows,
Some choose a son′s fight,
Trying to grow green leaves through the ash of the night,
Drop packs, pick up pens to tell stories dead,
Lines soaked in pain, verses filled with what son said,
Planting hope in hearts that might break the cycle′s chain,
Saying you don′t gotta drown, don′t suffer in vain,
Block once, swallow them whole, now here is call,
Music riding out, window stories breaking the fall,
Attics still linger, sirens still scream,
But more kids dreaming, chasing different scheme,
Maybe that′s enough, the shift ain′t a flood,
One soul chasing light in a sea full of mud,
Natty roots dig deep through the dirt and the ache,
Through the crooked deals, cold nights and hearts that break,
Trying to find a spark while the darkness creeps close,
Young souls living quick, selling dreams and those dope ghosts,
Natty roots, still grow strong where the hate rights rules,
Natty roots, holding hope like the last of us fools,
From the gutter, pain blooms with resilience tight,
Even in cracked soil, wildflowers claim they right,
Natty roots climb, still scraping for sky,
Learning to live, here one breath at a time,
Before we die′
