So Help Me

[Verse 1] I have fought back tears from pain you can't imagine And muscled up my backbone and grip on the mic'phone Other hand to the heart, ears to the Scriptures Word pictures give you a vision of my mission I got raps to quote ya 'fore them pop culture vultures choke ya Such a deadly game, aim at ya From every angle, attack ya, but Propaganda got ya, partna And soundboard, billboard, back to the drawing board Southern Cali cross trainer, salt-surfing skateboard Spirit-led b-boy, I'll show you one I don't condone ghostwriting unless it's the Holy One Snatched from the fire, so awesome on some Let God be true and all men be liars, toss 'em Curveball, Prop got a word, ya'll Awkward assertion, an urban Spurgeon Word surgeon urging a nation to face facts that despite what ya'll learning A burning hell is yearning to eat ya Let that sink in like Sharpie ink pens, my choice weapon and Here is our mission: attempt to raise kids Understand what "no" means and failure ain't the end if We all cannot win but lose is not an option Well-versed in hip-hop and sound biblical doctrine [Hook] Homie, so help me So help me So help me, homie, so help me So help me, so help me So help me, homie, so help me [Verse 2] That's the cry of a desperate mother Daddy's at his wit's end Granny don't know what to do with her kid's kids Ritalin is failing him, tenth grade he failing it Youth pastor bailing on him, teachers can't riddle him Po-po can't find him, out with his cousins Same streets that his tios and primos got killed in Hustlin' is built in, to whom is he listenin'? Not you! Lost all control of what influences him Got his eye on her, her, and many miniskirts Desperate for attention and showing them curves' works Sent her to live with Auntie, she stay in the burbs But her BFF is finna start workin' them curbs What we call underage, pimps call them "early" How you gon' compete? You barely making ends meet This is where we come in, spittin' the truth and then Sneak in they iPods, wait for the change and then In a time when crime is glorified as if Killing your own kind could get you defied Or at least immortalized in monuments Made of graffiti, the highest honor the hood could receive When the foundation's destroyed and hearts of men are cold And leaders are dropping like flies, look in my eyes See the determination, muster up the bravery Get tired of the sideline and rush the finish line, homie [Hook]