Verse 3.
Right hand on the Bible, left hand in the air
Before I spoke one word, made sure my throat was clear
A-hem, I’m a prisoner of circumstance
Frail nigga, I couldn’t much work with my hands
But my mind was strong, I grew where you hold your blacks up
Trap us, expect us not to pick gats up
Where you drop your cracks off by the Mack trucks
Destroy our dreams of lawyers and actors
Keep us spiralin’, goin’ backwards
At age nine, saw my first hate crime
Blindfolded, expected to walk a straight line
Mind molded, taught to love you and hate mine
Climbed over it, at a early age, Jay shined
Fuck the system at Lady Justice I blaze nine
Your Honor, I no longer kill my people, I raise mine
The soul of Mumia in this modern day time