Brenda's Baby

[Verse] Brenda’s baby is grown While I’m out here watching a throne Trying to reach thugging teens with a poem Maybe go from unknown to people saying Stimuli done blown The eff up guess what I just sound like a clone I’m sorry Spitting it raw but shifting my course It’s been 15 years without Mister Shakur And if you think about the shit that he saw I hope the pictures I draw can come close ‘Cause I give you my all It’s real It’s funny to hear my flow Never dreamed I would be getting money to bear my soul Thinking bout the times and the hoods where we reside Shit is wild Brenda’s baby’s like twenty years old Pac thought the world was cursed in '91 Felt the adverse of the slogan live by the gun I’m still stuck in this game he tried to run Well he did kind of run it I’m sad his time is done But the issues he was bringing up, stories that he gave Are the issues still facing us Call us mental slaves I ain't talking just blacks, in the hood we all the same The government sees statistics so Brenda’s kid has no name Father is her cousin Grandmother punks her She hears plenty stories bout being left in a dumpster So she’s not supposed to make it The ghetto should take her under You expect her on the pole or something since nobody loved her Mama died prostituting No one heard her cries Pac was busy yelling Hit Em Up When she was turning five We was worried bout the coastal war Picking choosing sides Bad Boy made noise Then our biggest heroes died It was like we lost the Malcolm and Martin Of our young generation they was just getting started No arrests even made when there’s rappers that’s targeted for assassination They ain’t even pressing no charges it’s messed up The country is falling, disease is spreading My people are dying, economy’s hurting the seeds are embedded With pain and desire to try to get the cheese the bread The papers, the dollars, the politics are keeping us dead And the labels are losing and Youtube is winning The students are stupid, the teachers ain’t getting no pay so they missing The president’s different, he tells us his vision But then television is probably killing the minds of the children The brothers are niggas the sisters are bitches the rappers are liars The mamas are babies the babies are crying You hear it, thee alarm clocks are going off Y’all not listening, little girls are showing off They big tits and they asses The shit’s sickening, pastors are stick pricking the catholic little kids And I’m rapping this slick shit while the Haters are stabbing the teens are slicing America’s chuckling at us, while we rocking our ice and We think we get money, we making it rain and we paying the strippers we popping the bottles the owners get richer They owning the clubs, and they owning the drugs and they owning the liquor We taking the shots and they keeping the picture It’s real, the music is weaker the albums ain’t selling We talking bout nothing the albums ain’t selling We talk about hustling, clapping and selling And half of us was really clapping or selling I used to rap like you I was seven