CLICK-CLICK,
BANG-BANG

When will it end?
Westside, Eastside,
Northside, Southside,
How did this stuff begin?
I look in the newspaper every day
And find out that another homie
has gone away
I pray to God every night,
that I won’t have to face
another funeral or fight.
But I have to be strong
and live through it all.
Who knows, I might get
shot at the mall.
Acting bad and thinking you’re tough,
What’s the point?
Haven’t you had enough?
Why can’t we all just get together
and drink beer or smoke a joint?