Don't you give up my young young friend Here's a story I think will please How sir rastus bear was in fact redeemed Redeemed from the cell to which he
s a story to tell about days of old A man and his gun, a street fighter, I'm told There's one in every town, tryin' to make himself a name If he's quicker
And kiss the children for me, please, before you go So don't play this crazy game with me no longer 'Cause I won't be able to resist my rage And the gun that's
so I'm told I guess it's like the story of the rainbow's gold All of the decisions and all of the dread And all of the games being played in my head
's choice We've been livin' so long under oppression All afflicted by their sick economic games Power, policy and religion, money talks, leaders listen All over the world the story
Mothers and children from long ago, Mothers and children from far away, So many of them, being together, It's always been that way. Some of them lived
there I'mma keep talking till they here Providing guidance to our children Turning off the TV sets, putting away the video games Helping our children
, the number of days in a year There's 52 cards, the number of weeks in a year There's 4 suits, the number of weeks in a month There's 12 picture cards
gotta do That's right, that's right {I gather y'all here today To become a witness to something you may have never see or heard before There's something
be told, 'til now no one's ever heard Somewere in time there's a school, a boy went there to read and write You were nobody's fool, you quickly learned the game
Yeah yeah, aiyyo black it's time word Word, it's time nigga? Yeah, it's time man alright nigga, begin Yeah, straight out the fuckin' dungeons of rap Where
all this senseless crime We can change it, why they have to die? Think of the children, tomorrow's their future Don't make them feel it's just another
's become a real gold mine And the kid's sold off for the bottom line Oh why, oh why? Mr. America sweating on TV The winner's joy from the battered boy
, to come alive, to survive It's not enough to listen, it's not enough to see When the hurricane is coming on, it's not enough to flee It's not enough
't use it!) Try to make it real ? compared to what? The President, he's got his war Still don't know what it is for They change the game with no rhyme
record company's Clouds getting darker, suns getting nearer I'll turn an atheist into a God fearing believer The back of a building, your body's found by children
baby Yo, master of ceremony, controlled territory It's Tay, the mad journalist always trying to write a better story And laying tracks 'cause it's better
It's hell time, man It's hell time, man It's hell time, man It's hell time, man It's hell time, man It's hell time, man It's hell time, man It's hell