Sounds of the Ghetto

I can hear the wicked shots rangin', Hood stars on the avenues hangin', You hear the sounds of the ghetto and loose change in B.U.Ms[brothers under madness] metal cups clangin', That poverty noise is 1 of the hood anthems, Bailbondsmen collectin' hood ransoms, and crooked police we can't stand'em, And we're fed up with continuous violence, All the dark clothes reunions Too many moments of silence, And R.I.Ps are another ghetto sound, It doesn't matter if you're Red,Black,White,Yellow,Brown, We need to put the metal down, The penitentiaries call some in elementary, They don't know at a young age & eventually, End up locked down where jailed sinners be, I've been a witness to many gun tunes, They're gettin' shot on the spot No more meetin' up at high noon, Death hits the community like a typhoon, The devil's the evil artist to start this, He has them tryin' to prove whose hood is the hardest, While innocent bystanders are like movin' targets, So I shed a tear for some better years, This world is cursed So I write a verse for every hearse until my ears & my head is clear.