Reflection of Children Coming Up in the Grave lyrics

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