PG

*instrumental until :36* [Saul Williams] Ain't from the streets of Compton Ain't from no prison yard Ain't got no guns or weapons Hell, nigga, I ain't hard I'd rather help than fight you I'd rather hug than swing I know where diamonds come from and ain't about to bling Ain't got no fancy car, I can't afford my rent Ain't even got my own style sometimes I'm 50 Cent But I ain't got not bullets, and I ain't bullet proof And you can take your aim, but you can't kill the truth Ay, yo, untie that noose, son, we ain't free, we loose I'm sleeping on the floor above your party's burning roof And when that party's through, here's what you need to do Just hold that mic right to your heart and hear the beat of you I got a heart beat produced by God, and, boy, it sound hard Got a heart beat produced by God, and, boy, it sound hard Got a heart beat produced by God, and, boy, it sound hard Got a heart beat produced by God, and, boy, it sound hard