Swizz Beatz - Part of the Plan Lyrics
Tryin’ hard to speak andFightin’ with my weak handDriven to distractionSo part of the planWhen somethin’ is brokenAnd you try to fix itTryin’ to repair itAnyway you canThe time was the late 80'sEvery block had a stray dog with rabiesFiends threw away their crack babiesArguin’ with my brother to see who pick the mouse upWalk by, open up the oven door to heat the house upEveryday, police would swarmComin’ home from school, your brains on your uniformI wish I could fly away on a unicornI'm from the ghetto and everyday a human’s bornSo who cares if I'm stretched out on the scene?Surrounded by homicide forensic teamYellow tape, haters glad that I'm deadPedestrians walkin’ by and they just shakin’ their heads sayingTryin’ hard to speak andFightin’ with my weak handDriven to distractionSo part of the planWhen somethin’ is brokenAnd you try to fix itTryin’ to repair itAnyway you canWhat's hot, what's not, what should, what shouldn't beCome on y'all who to say what couldn't be?Look at me, I'm nicest not the iciestSometimes I wake up and ask God, who life this is?I look at these eyes, I'm only in this bodyIf you only could understand the vision that I carryWhite actors will be like Puff Daddy when he internedMen play with fire, men get burnedTo talk about this, the only thing I earnedI can rap, I’m talkin’ about killin’ you like thisOr puttin’ a hole in your head the size of thatBut that would be cheatin’ myself and I can't do that, manTryin’ hard to speak andFightin’ with my weak handDriven to distractionSo part of the planWhen somethin’ is brokenAnd you try to fix itTryin’ to repair itAnyway you canMan, it all ends up on a back streetIn abandoned buildings where the crack heads meetAll you hear is and lighters flickingBusy smoking, baby dead, rat poison in the kitchenThey so high, walkin’ by, thinkin’ she asleepDon't even put her in the crib, just cover her with a sheetThis is me in the building 17 with the bundles and a gun up on meAnd I shoot any nigga run up on meAnd for 2 years my momma lookin’ for meCryin’, runnin’ up on other kids thinkin’ it's meBy now I ain’t got no heartNigga, I'm a gang member, suited up and I’m ready to startTryin’ hard to speak andFightin’ with my weak handDriven to distractionSo part of the planWhen somethin’ is brokenAnd you try to fix itTryin’ to repair itAnyway you can
