Children Of Men - Trae Tha Truth, J. Cole, Ink

Trae tha Truth

Cole World

Wonder what it’s like, how a nigga kill a nigga on sight

Did he hesitate?

Think about his life, think about his kids, think about his

wife?

But that nigga heartless, group homes, nigga never had no fosters

Cause who taking home the little black kid, poor thing, his momma is a crackhead

So the state raised him, and the hate raised him

They clowned on him at school but he fronted like it ain’t phased him

Shit, now it’s about getting money cause these cool niggas think his shit is

funny

Gotta have clothes, gotta have dough, hoes ain’t checking unless you got plenty,

now a nigga selling dope

Holding onto a little hope of a better life, huh, but that hope fades so quick

Cause he getting paid so quick

He be robbing niggas just to cop the shit the minimum wage won’t get

Young niggas trapped, young niggas strapped, heart turned black, won’t turn back

Later days, dealing with mistakes

On this corner tryna catch another break

Fuck school, tell them he was coming late

Block dry, hear they praying something shake

Now everybody taking off his plate

Bill him what, half of that he have it late

His best friend by the yellow crates

Suicide, tears tryna hesitate

Only seventeen, damn, seventeen

Nightmares, opposite of heaven’s dream

Bout to thaw, he ain’t got the weather lean

Black mans, cooking more than he’s ever seen

White books, he ain’t talking education

Fuck what he facing, the stripes are registration

Losing his mind, won’t lose his reputation

Try him he busting without no hesitation

Damn, young nigga attitude, like fuck it

Still tryna make it out the bucket

Light feather all time low still

Tryna figure out how the fuck he finna duck it

He gotta ride it out before he crash

He on his hustle tryna get the cash

Can’t focus, shit’s spinning fast

Laws on him, hope he’s got his work stashed

Loud work, hope it don’t smell

Can’t afford to take another L

First class, no feeling

Fuck school he about to fail

It’s all him, he ain’t finna tell

He on his own, he ain’t finna bail

Either way, he on his way to jail

Shoulda chilled now he headed for a cell

Oh, don’t recall all the tears, all along

Children of men, children of men

Look, now we in the prison cell

No commissary, no mail

No phone calls, just time

He gon pay it, no mind

On his way to parole hope it get it

Middle finger to the warden hope he get it

Niggas wanna take it there they know he make it

Fresh shakes take him to the mic he hit it

They gon catch bitch he on his way

Try to stop him and it’s gonna be on today

Solitary confinement every day

Fuck em all only thing he know to say

Now it’s time up, he a free man

Gates open, thinking of another plan

Where he finna go, what he finna do

Finna be a couple those, he coming through

Then it’s back to the hood S on his chest

Fuck Super, that nia stressed

He going through hell like he never blessed

Every day in pain, nothing less

Pills in, zoned out, right plan, wrong route

Opportunity present itself in the kitchen

Guarantee he shows what he’s bout

Under pressure no slack

Fuck jail he ain’t going back

Only way you leaving is a box

And you can tell everyone that’s a fact

Had my back, on his pistol

Black clouds, black rain

To his head, where he aim

Feel the same now the bullet in his brain