Reflection of children coming up in the grave
Reflection of children coming up in the grave
My childhood was hood, shit was real
My father was evil, he was a killer already when he came here from Israel
Leaving us scared with a stare until it transformed
Into me putting fear into my peers, that’s when the man formed
In the projects, we used to beef with each other
‘Cause our fucking parents were too ignorant to teach us better
I had thoughts on my mind of killing someone at nine
I actually went to do it, lucky for homeboy, he backed down at the time
I could’ve been dolo and I’d still flip and get live
A lot of cats were truly bitch, they needed a clique to survive
Me and Bill had a rep for fucking Deceps up when they stepped
They crept deep like roaches and would catch you if you slept
Peeking around the project buildings to see who’s on the bench
Might be an enemy, you’d have to blood-drench on defense
Only thing we thought we were promised was dishonest careers
Beat down and robbed so many people, I had bad karma for years
Reflection of children coming up in the grave
Tell ‘em, Charlie
Reflection of children coming up in the grave
Some ’83 shit
Controlled by my own rage, my attitude was like, whatever
I never got fucked up by a kid my own age, ever
I was bolder, screaming on cats four years older
I’d take a loss then Bill would regulate ‘em like a soldier
Forcing friends to stay out late after eight, walking around the PJ’s
At night as a kid because mom-dukes had a date
Playing tackle football on iced-up concrete, we did what we could
Older thugs would steal our football like “Boyz n the Hood”
When I started thugging, kids that were rugged became feeble
You could see how they suddenly bitched up when they saw evil
Growing up on Farragut, even when innocent
We weren’t having it, something me and my brother had enough, some arrogance
Me and my peeps kept it gully, we had enough
One year we made a resolution to take shit from no one no matter what the circumstances
No matter who they were they get murdered
A lot of people got fucked up over that shit and they all deserved it
Reflection of children coming up in the grave
Some Chef Boyardee shit, raviolis
Reflection of children coming up in the grave
Chicken Delicious, drama every day
Back in the days, moved into the projects at six
Got lost the first day, I felt like a rat in a maze
Even in public school I hated kids that were squealing
The hustle skills I possess now come from the foundation of drug dealing
Used to sit for hours weighing shit on a triple beam
I had cards made up for fiends to beep me plus little schemes
In fifth grade, punching teachers in the face
A derelict on the bleachers that never clicked with a peaceful phase
Rocking blue suede Pumas copped from Church Ave.
Utica fade for designs dipped with fly birds, kid
Boosting everything I could in shops from Polo to Tower Records cassettes
Even when I got caught I wouldn’t stop
Having cops put loaded guns to my chest, threatening to kill me for no reason
‘Cause the way we dressed was fresh, used to love to get a reaction
When I’d whip out a gun or a twenty-four-inch machete ready for action
Reflection of children coming up in the grave
Kangaroos with pockets, Lee patches
Reflection of children coming up in the grave
Guess embroidery in ’84, Milky Way chabibs
Some Count Chocula shit, roaches in my bed
Burger King nutrition, I’m taking you back to ‘81
Farragut Road, 5714, Howie selling weapons out the projects
Blowguns, butterfly knives, some G.I. Joe shit
Fuck you know about that? Nerf footballs and slingshots
Kitchen knives, .22’s, .380’s, nines, some old-school shit
Five-dollar combination plate starving, robbing pocketbooks
Shout to Charlie in the bing, repping it
Reflection of children, you fucking bitch in the grave