Well my devil won't let me out Well my devil won't (Fuck the law) As I maneuver through the streets A policeman and then the predeceased bodies of those who disagree (Like, fuck them all) I pray the soldiers get release The price of grief wasn't cheap

Jumped right off the porch and straight to the streets I went and got me some dough But that ain't enough, I want some more I want some more and some more Jumped right out of class and straight to the club Now she dancing on the pole But that ain't

Juliet when we made love you used to cry A lovestruck Romeo got a serenade Laying everybody low with a lovesong that he made Finds a convenient streetlight steps out of the shade Says something like you and me babe how about it Juliet says hey it's Romeo

This could be my destination Say you'll be mine Maybe it's just a feeling, every time we meet But you hit me right out of the blue from all those people out on the streets And if one time you told me that you loved me - heaven knows I would feel that I

Yo to my people doing time, xzibit, juvenile, y'all need to Nature, ja rule, reptile come on Bring the heat. Look, I'm inhumane livin' in this house of pain Stuck with a thousand street hustlers Down on they luck Repeat felons caught up with the death I

King of the streets, child of clay What made them want to come and blow you away Born in Red Hook, Brooklyn, in the year of who knows when Opened up his eyes to the tune of an accordion Always on the outside of whatever side there was When they asked him

Things that I have been dealt Places that I have roamed Home, I’m home Home, I'm home, home, home, home Home, I'm home Streets full of people with trinkets to share Offerin' them up for the folks in despair Yandi and crystals and oils for growth

But we don't go outside anymore The radio blasts hysteria While the television's sideways on the floor We're mourning in the streets of Amerika Mourning in the streets of Amerika Stand by to switch on We fire out all pistons We're singing along But no

I won't show my face here anymore But even if we won't admit it to ourselves We'll walk upon these streets and think of little else These streets are yours, you can keep them All that's left behind I don't want them They pull me back, and I surrender To

And it's your face, I'm looking for On every street There's gotta be a record of you some place You gotta be on somebodys books The lowdown, a picture of your face Your injured looks The sacred and profane The pleasure and the pain Somewhere your