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Ya'll people askin me for unwanted favors,
callin me the neiborhood savior,
not knowin if i'm bad, maybe good,
tryin to take me down, but who could?
You would, given the chance,
savin' your name for the resistance,
make it an instance of pretense,
spendin' all your cents, on certain events,
but who mentors you, the vendors do,
selling anything from twlelve to two,
at night, always right,
its not so bright in the cold,
when all thats sold is white gold,
to the young and the old,
thats what i'm told/many things,
of what croaks and what sings,
what brings bling rings to rotten kings,
on the throne all dead and all prone,
to deny what deep in side is needed,
and deep seeded, and breeded,
but bred instead, thats what teacher said,
talkin till her white shirt red, and tatterd,
blood splattered all over the floor,
reachin the door, a sight we've all seen before,
when we try to hide the tears the babies cry,
watching their momma live and than fly, to the clouds,
but still proud, that she's gone so long, without wrong,
and no song to comfort her in her sorrow,
which she borrowed from the people of substance,
all hopped up and in a trance,
no one but her to feel their dying dance under the unholy circumstance,
empty of flavor,
do me one favor and call her the neighborhood savior.