Scared

[Intro: Solomon Childs] Aiyo, son, it's some new niggas coming in there, homey Just see what they got in there... got one p.c. on, whatever ya'll Niggas get, man Ya'll niggas get the new, hurtin' niggas, man Yo, one of them niggas smell like drugs, son I'm tellin' you, man, yo, son I want p.c., man, word [Chorus 3X: sample] Oh mama, I can hear you crying You're so scared, and all alone... [Solomon Childs] What's the deal, homey? What's going down? Looks like you got a lotta food and clothes Cuz in your last house, you was holding it down Oh, two state blankets, balled up That's really big, so let's get to the point You coming off of something, you dig? And your mans from New York, we don't know 'em, and never heard of 'em And I don't give a fuck what hood you from I am Staten Island, like King Just with the Warrior's Drum In the phones, you should have no parts of By the way, we need your pin number, before the next chair line supper And also, what size was those J.O.'s? Big Den been wondering, and he specialize in K.O.'s So take a shit, let's see what you got in your ass Cuz you smell like drugs, and you look like you hold rugs Quiet... didn't they inform you about p.c.? Protective custody, where you can live like a gangsta Walk like a gangsta, talk like a gangsta Ain't never gotta come within fifty feet of a real gangsta No, oh well, so take heed, as they walk out of your cell with your belongings The tension will build up, morning after morning And you just might wanna jump off When one of your mans, come through the doors from New York So remember, it was done, by organization And that's how it will continue, so they will leave out of here leaking As well as you too... [Chorus 3X]