Runnin' Wild - Dead Prez, The Evil Genius DJ Green Lantern

Fuck the police, can’t wait to get from momma house

Hopped off the porch, old enough for some drama now

Pistol in his pocket, barely strong enough to cock it

But he ain’t scared to pop it, got a heart like Colossus

Momma ain’t home, daddy locked down

Still his gold chain swing, pants sagged down

He be clean, fresh Caesar

New jeans, new sneakers

Middle finger to his teachers, a rebellious young genius

Little Bobby Hutton, '09 version

Ready to touch something

No matter what

Determined to make his life worth something

Keeping it gangsta

Cause the young black male is in danger

One slip out here, these crackas will hang you

Only the strong survive

No choice, you gotta ride

Young in age but your mind is wise

Walking strong with a King Tut strut in your stride

Black pride and I’m young, hungry, born to survive

Don’t collide with him

Ya, I hear all that righteous shit you talkin' man, fuck that.

I gotta get out

here and get this money, man.

My daughter feet grow everyday.

I’m broke out

here.

Ain’t nobody giving me no jobs.

I gotta get it one way or another

Little child, little child

Runnin' wild, runnin' wild

Little child, runnin' wild

Whoah, ya

Hey, little child, little child

Runnin' wild

Little child, runnin' wild

Whoah, hey

Growing up in this world today is not easy to do

Either your choosing your path or your path will choose you

Lil' Khazi got big shoes to fill for his fam'

He’s so young it’s hard for him to understand

That he’s the man of the house

He know the time, his momma work overtime

And his attitude (a milli, a milli, is '09)

Go to school just to battle MC’s in the cafeteria

Fell asleep in third period to the theory

That the president is black so he should try to be that

Better yet, put a gat on your back and go to Iraq

But he already done chose a side

A bonafide People Army soldier rollin' for life

Mind sharp as that switch blade knife in his back pocket

Ain’t no crack in his sock

He got bigger dreams

And even more than money countin'

He ready to move mountains

The future Kwame Nkrumah

And he know it’s a dirty job but somebody gotta do it

Shoot, you gotta feel me man.

Not a day goes by it ain’t a shootout.

My gun is all I got in these streets.

I’m 'bout myself, and when I need help,

the only thing I can rely on is my gun game

I love to see the homies cliqued up, fists up

Khakis on, STAG bandana rag twist up

Hood pride, unified

G’d up, ride or die

Street tribe

Real soldiers don’t die, we multiply

You got people all around the world nodding their heads to what people are

saying.

So when you’re conscious of that, then ya know, you can do more than

just say, «this is a hustle», «I'm trying to make my bread» or «that broad got a big ass».

Come on.

There’s more important things in the world.

I know you and stic do it everyday