Street Corner - Masta Killa, GZA, Inspectah Deck

Looking on various street corners

I’m sure you’ve seen it yourself

Standing on the corner, is an alleged brother

Dressed in blue, or green, red and black

And starting the news, that the revolution is coming

And you better get ready, sort of like (I feel you, son)

The end of the world is coming, unfortunately (I got you, though)

The world is just gonna drag on and on (I know how it is)

And we have a poem that we’ve written particularly (I said, I know how it is)

For the brothers on the street corners

When the revolution come, you can see me on the front line

Firing my gun, standing right beside my son

If I go, it’s understood that I stood for something

When my whole life, they told me, I was good for nothing

I was raised by the stray dogs, blazed off, layed off

Breaking laws, graveyard shifting every day war

Focus now, notice how, things change, soldier

I remain the same, I’m older now, I embrace the pain

I blame the struggle, nearly drove me insane

Thought I lost my head, till my brethren told me the same

No tears for the reaper, I’ve buried bout a thousand

In graffiti, «rest in peace» sprayed off throughout the housing

I tried to stay civilized, the hood’s a prison inside

The only difference is the doors don’t slide

Still we trapped in the animal cage, cause we got animal ways

So we react, with the animal rage

And my section’s real, weapons peel, cheddar’s the deal

Seen the depths of hell, now I stare, death in the grill

From the slave ships, to today’s bricks, same shit

I’m awake, to the wickedness, and one, with the pavement

The all great mind stays divine, my hands remain deadly

We shine without the hung jewelry, produce light

That’ll travel through mics, now as the time riping

We took words that we nourishing, encouraging

A nation to awaken, those who were sleeping

Can you conceive the thought?

Transatlantic import

Slave and bought, secret relations between blacks and Jews

Might set a fuse off in the head

Many dead lynch hung, swung from trees

Brothers in the struggle together, eat from one pot

Hold each other down to the sneaker

Nothing come between us

Fast money and chicks, did it to the best of cliques

It’s sickening… huh

It’s me and you son, forever in the struggle

No doubt, we hustle, survival is the motto

Will you soon follow, a better tomorrow

…For a better tomorrow

It’s me and you son, forever in the struggle

No doubt, we hustle, survival is the motto

Will you soon follow, a better tomorrow

…For a better tomorrow

I catch a few flashbacks about, going through the struggle

How we used to make dollars, from all the snow we shoveled

In a broke neighborhood, where the kids often dream

About a lavish life, that is mostly seen in the screen

Where some dreams are quickly cut short, due to gang violence

From loud guns, that kept witnesses, in deep silence

Was it bad timing?

Jealousy from too much shining?

Or a set up, from a girl that he wined, kept dining

It’s a known fact, they will attack, cause it’s like that

And depending on the, kind of impact, that strike back

In a town where the talk is cheap and, beef is brief

A mother sobs uncontrollably, and exhibit the grief

Large holes in the front door, of a housing tenement

Allows room to retaliate, so conflict is imminent

This hate in the brain, destroys the cells like cancer

Even experts are stuck with more questions than answers