He's a poor beggar, makes his living in the streets.
He's not much different, than the strangers we meet.
But society judges this beggar, because the state of his cloths.
Not taking time to find, what the man even knows.
Born a slave, destined to die.
The blackman survives, the question is why?
He survives for his freedom, he survives for his name.
To recieve what God promised, to be created the same.
The power of love, fuels the heart and soul.
It heats you up, when your blood runs cold.
It feeds compassion, throughout your mind.
It reverses your thoughts, from cruel to kind.
The little G that rides, is holding his own.
The little G that rides, was left all alone.
The little G that rides, has fired a shot.
The little G that rides, had a gun that was hot.
As the bright light slowly dims from in front of your eyes,
A calm relaxed sensation appears in disguise.
It's neither the coming of nightfall or the shadows behind the moon,
It's not the haze covering the sun on a mid afternoon.