Hope

I guess you could consider me a conscious rhymer, I'm always aware of what I'm talkin' bout, cause too many brothers chalked out for sayin shit they didn't mean. Or sayin shit they meant to the wrong man. I gotta different kind of plan. Instead of playin with White Keys, I'ma pick up the piano. Music is my great escape. Countless lives been thrown to waste. Dazed by the illusion of the hustle...Cries for help muffled..by the plea for a gold rope. We hangin ourselves. Out to dry heat up the spot. Spray for a victim, hittin children. I hope my words have a impact. I mean do we have hope?