Flags (feat. Balewa Muhammad)

Mama don't cry for me, Papa don't feel bad
 Cold on the streets, they bang so we got to bang back
 So I rep my hood, my city, my borough, thorougly
 That's all we have
 Father if you still listening, we hope our prayers make it up to heaven,
 If we fall then we're not forgotten don't let our lil' brothers end up like we did
 Let them grow up and get a job
 Don't let them grow up behind bars, trying to be hard
 Oh, Father can you swiffen my feet
 Repping the wrong colour on the wrong street with no heat
 Rocking hickies and truckers, bandannas my brothers
 My haters or lovers we still got each other
 We twist our hands up and pull our pants up
 Walk this way throw your flag and your setup
 Mama don't cry for me, Papa don't feel bad
 Cold on the streets, they bang so we got to bang back
 So I rep my hood, my city, my borough, my family thorougly
 That's all we have
 You gotta cook the beef or you don't eat
 That's why we fly our flags
 I heard you mob and you're moody, you jacking for jewellery
 You banging and beasting with your tats and your toolies
 Banging for bounty you're too young for the nineties,
 Are you dumping with the G-Reps or jumping in the county
 Shooting by the roof and scraping is what's happening,
 Niggas real and 'bout it so [Gun Onomatopoeia] and they cracking
 If you going out tonight get your pistol and your rifle
 Pray to the father and sell your soul to the cycle
 You coming nigga, listen no bouncing and no bitching
 Cooking by the kitchen, flags and finger flipping
 Living without growing, killing without blowing,
 This gang is a gun it's either given or chosen
 Trying to get the trigger strapped, trying to get these niggas back,
 Worst part of the deal it won't help bring our nigga back
 Tell your babies that you love her, kiss your mama before you leave her
 Hug her like you need her, cause it might be the last time you might see her
 The streets are so slick, they're greasy, as the needy feed the needy
 Easy to murder if you're hungry or greedy, gang sets in grafitti,
 I mean, we mean like Eeedie, I mean, I mean I finna' a track a treaty,
 Take my warrants to Tahiti,
 Throw up your flags like soccer, nothing but war on TV
 R.I.P Appachi up in heaven in a platinum TP
 Aggressive is the message, No lessons without the effort
 Bang bang live by the gun, dye by the gun, it's a flag thing