They say he is a product
Of his environment.
Stastics show he will
Reoffend,
He will be regurgitated
By the prison digestive system,
Come in as ground beef,
Shit out, repeat.
There is a connotation
Given to boys of his breed,
No ability to succeed,
A life sentence
Of inflicting misery,
Is inherited,
Just look at his heritage,
The alarming level
His pants are stationed at
Below his ass,
We all know the connotation
That comes with that...

They say she is a product
Made without love,
Concieved within
Drug induced lust.
So quick to judge
Her by the trailer
That raised her,
Higher than Mama's arms
Could lift,
As her bottle was always more pertinent,
Than any given
To her little world.
Stastics show
The drugs will flow rapid
Through her veins,
Before she'd come of age to vote.
She'll buy the love,
She'd never really know.
We all know the connotation
Associated with that kinda girl.
Mamas round up your little boys,
Like sheep into a herd
When the softly spoken word
Is slurred,
"Sssslut..."

Their minds are shut,
Like window sills,
Nature traded for simulation,
No longer do they require authentication,
To stamp the mail we send out,
Lies travel fastest word of mouth
Forget the connotations distributed from doubt.

Why keep slaying the dragons we've since learned to be myth?
Or is it comforting to materialize
The demons we fight within?