Black Man Curse

If sleep is the cousin of death Then living is the brother of birth Because you been born in the world Where you don't know nobody in this earth You wake up knowing stuff could be worse Seen them black kids get put in a hearse And you wonder why nobody hurt We see this often Where somebody dies because of their words Get put in a coffin Just for dry snitching on a verse I seen it first He robbed somebody girl And took her purse Talked about it on a verse He released it on the third Next day that boy got put in the dirt Now they saying R.I.P on a shirt His enemies shot up All the shirts And shot up the church Just another story of the black man curse Just another story of the black man curse Just another story of the black man curse