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letra de ktla5 - nantes

“…imagine how you would feel if you was mindin’ yo business and you just became the center of attention, the target of utter bullsh-t. and you wind up on the local news. moms cryin’, brothers mad, sisters, too..”

(verse 1)
what’s the price for a black kid soul?
i liked to died wit the steel in my face
and the reason was i outta pocket, trippin’ searchin’ for ______!
each step was taken deeper into enemy lands
so while i’m walkin’, i avoid the glares of the damaged
ignore the cries from the infants, screamin’ due to hunger
brushin’ past some n-ggas that’s obstructin’ my path
but i’m in colors they don’t like and that incurred they wrath
look, i wanna make it home and baby girl not worth the trouble
if these n-ggas wanna fade then i gotta squabble
gotta stand my ground i ain’t no motherf-ckin’ b-tch and sh-t
this kinda logic a problem
better not cross that street, must keep my cool
mutter under my breath so allah keep me grounded
they was confused by my demeanor
she waitin’ i kept it pushin’
eyes follow my moves, i can feel that they lookin
advancin’ on my position, my paranoia increasin’
heart rate was thumpin’, i’m thinkin they creepin’
an og sat on the porch, he starin’ in my direction
seen his students gawkin and felt i need a lesson but then he noticed my fear
sweat drippin’ wit tears so then he raised his hand
and them n-ggas in they tracks
he stood there on his porch, i ain’t turn to look back
he was playin some oldies, the kat singin’ the track said
(hook)
it was pimps up and hoes down
said it was pimps up and hoes right down
down
said it pimps up and hoes down
said it was pimps up and hoes right down
(they don’t give a f-ck about you)
said it was pistols and paper
said it was pistols and paper right now
(they don’t ever really give a f-ck about you)
now

(verse 2)
what’s the price for a black kid soul?
an arizona and some skittles before he riddled wit bullets
that sentiment stay in mind when this journey long but this was round ’09
so emmet till was the lesson
told myself i’ll k!ll his k!llers wit my blade then dip
as i seen a cruiser cruisin’ up the block h-lla close
becomin’ real anxious, thinkin’ it’s them from the block
but the whip slide through darkness and i see it’s a pig
look, i ain’t did a motherf-ckin’ thing, i’ll keep pushin
he greet me wit a grin as the whip inchin’ closer
urgin’ me to stop but i’m clean as a whistle
so he throw that b-tch in park and hop out wit aggression
wit his hand on his weapon askin’ f-cked up questions
like, “where you from boy? i know you prolly bang”
i remain quiet, never addressed by my name or my locale
i’m fightin’ back tears kuz he could k!ll me and be hailed a samaritan
paid for my murder wit medals and public fame
his hand grip tightly around his strap, he know i’m not no threat
it’s power trip, they love seein’ your fear so you adhere to their commands
i overstand that’s why i f-ckin’ ran
back to the 40s where imma take that chance
officer stopped pursuit kuz he knew was wrong
og still observing while he bumpin’ his song
(hook)

“…it’s funny because right after we leave situations like this, we like to place our pain in the hands of a woman. we expect them to be our protector, our guardian, our therapist, our p-rnstar—“

- nantes

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