Once a gun was held upright
When there was a difference between wrong and right
It wasn't chief to wear the feathers
Of the gang rapper, or someone hater
Now the "G" hands you his acceptance score gun
so you play the roll, hold it sideways "G"
they ejaculate messed up language into your soul
Impregnated, watered, and cultivated
some say it's just over the top
These plants yield bitter fruits
but thorns pricking numb mind won't stop
growing wild in neglected gardens of youth
Too young to choose what's' right
your puttin' on the playa
to soon to end the game
by the time you stop and wonder
how much the ticket costs
Someone's already paid the price
and you spent your last free choice
Wassup!?