Neak Verse 1:

Hella broken dreams and drug dealers, small crosses on foreheads we loss niggas, that pull triggers with every hope that’s exhausted in us, nothing to lose, we’re demons and fools, we’re like a life’s menace, black churches they don’t get it, stressing ‘bout the building fund, what about the lives in it, prayer’s not the problem, problem is when it’s answered, so praying for it instead of spraying for it is a cancer, inner city drama, gained Trump and loss Obama, yo we’re floating up shit’s creek with no paddle’s on us, Pac told me fuck the politicians, fuck the black vote, revoke them sentences, that fills prison’s to the brim, have mother’s singing those church hymns, even kill us recording the film, that’s genocide to a third eye, drop some Visine on the spiritual lens I, see the scheme through the world’s eyes, gotta move a little wiser, already normalized, funeral lines, remove the visor….feel the pressure from the cold hearted, love for self and God soon parted, what we gone do…

Chorus:

(Repeated 8x)…in this inner city blues where a nigga got nothing to lose man, what we gone do?

Neak Verse 2:

We at war now and can’t see it, culture trapped in addiction to social media, liars on liars, officials they gone deny it, got money for wars, can’t feed the pour, no satire, biggest crooks posing in attire, suit and tie shit, something like Timberlake, I won’t cease fire, who said the struggle is beautiful, I don’t see a Mya, telling me we’ll overcome, you’re preaching to the choir, we kings, it’s something that we desire, thing is, the world already know it, enslaved sires who lost tryna find ways out of the fire, trying find peace without pulling pieces (guns) out and misfire, how many kids caught the wrong beef, clothes colored in red wine (blood), the sorrow skin deep youngin’, youngin’ who never seen the strays coming, I want to leave and exit out like my name London, hella fiends, young teens with the baby bumps and….forget me nots, no Patrice Rushen, they crying out, see the pain, yo I’m here for something…people dying slow and it’s all for nothing man, what we gone do….

Chorus:

(Repeated 8x)…in this inner city blues where a nigga got nothing to lose man, what we gone do?