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Some has it easier than others, Some has it not, Some were raised by their mothers, and some their own hath forgot.
As I lay in my bed, I can't help but feel bad that somewhere, some time tonight... A poor child will be dead. There'll be no justice; It is something, society will easily forget.
I see my people walking through the streets covered in a graffiti of shame and pain, A depression that came from the time of apartheid, Walls covered in memories of frustration,
They say we only do drugs like we got no ambition, We take it personal cause deep inside we're on a mission, But people see only the worst like they got tunnel vision, They make us look so pathetic as if we got no wisdom,