Hear Them Dead Homies Crying
High Rolling through the Hood, Chilling on the Set,
Young G’s strapped for Death, out to Get the Get.
To legit to Quit, Slanging Cocaine, & getting Paid Rack,
Cheddar Stacked to the Max, and he’s still called New Jack.
But what’s his Destination, as he makes his Reservation,
If he don’t Repent, & turn in his Ghetto Resignation.
Hell bound, Died: Living in a Crack Town,
Because he didn’t put his Name, in that Ghetto Lost & Found.
He should have Changed his Life, while he yet Breathe,
But it was very too Late, the Second his life Ceased.
Rest in Peace, are the Initials on the Tomb,
But Hell has Enlarged Herself, just to make Room.
For all of the Others, coming after that,
Living by the Sword, Players on a Death Mat.
And what a way to go, Welcome, Welcome from Hearse Row,
For what the Living don’t know, the Dead can’t show them Bro.
So I Pray for the Hoodlum, and the Peace of the Thugs too,
that the Lord would be Merciful, and Send in the Ghetto Crew.
Because they Hear the Screaming, from Memories far Behind,
So I Pray, you would Open their Ears, to Hear Them Dead Homies Crying.
It's Death after Death, Living in the Streets. There is a way out of the Ghetto Maze.
