Jasmine Mans - I Know You Didn't Mean To k** Him lyrics

That wasn't a gun It was a wallet, my n***a The cops done played target practice with a lot of my n***as Poured out liquor for a lot of my n***as So much, they bottled it, built a liquor store and put a f**ing lottery in it We in a lottery, n***a For the lives of a lot of these n***as They pickin' 7's and they scratchin' off a lotta these n***as I done sent birthday cards to parents with nothin' but apologies in em, like: I'm sorry, Mr. Rainy, Sean Bell was gonna marry your daughter and you know I wanna thank you for the way that she was brought up, and you know that I was smiling when you seen that car avoid her. And you sent tears from heaven when you seen that boy get slaughtered. But how can Kanye complain about what the accident did to his left eye? Cause they shot that boy in his left eye Let that sh** fly right towards his right eye He only fly in terms that he just died Because the nurse cut right through his polo shirt, like: Motherf** yo fly, I'm tryin to keep you alive! I'm gonna be the one whose gotta tell your mother you just died Went to school, became a nurse, to only clean up n***as like you? Scared to have a son, cause he's gonna look like a n***a like you? And you wanna know why educated motherf**as don't come back to the hood? Because they sick of explaining n***as like you. k**ed your a**, but didn't even leave your Tim Boots You ain't die like a G n***a, you trembled But I'm the only one who saw that sh** Is this the price you gonna pay for no snitching? Because it ain't worth it Monkeys are only servants in this circus. And I know you didn't mean to k** him. But sometimes, when you mix Hennessey, empty brown boys, and Weezy, Somebody will be made fresh to d**h Murder ain't always a decision. It's fears lust for temptation. It's being too scared and dangerous for your own damn good or for your own f**ing hood But I know, I know black mothers don't raise their sons to be murders, just as much as much as I know they don't raise them to be murdered. They would never set them up that way. This world has given them nothing at all to lose, and everything to prove so they stand on the front lines naked, ready to make a man outta themselves, with the only tools, click clack, this world has ever given a n***a to use. But I know, I know black mothers don't breed hate and sin into their first born men, just as much as I know she did not choose for him to be a martyr for them. You can never tell the difference between the mother of the murdered and the mother of the murderer. Both shook in solemn, both eyes and memory blue in tint both lost their grips when they lost their sons developed a stutter in their palms. One became scared of her shadow, while the other just became one. Someone's baby became a murderer last night, and none of us remembered to cry for him To pray for him To ask god to take the hate and malice out of his heart To ask him: "Boy, where'd you get all that hate from? All that culture from? All them damn guns from?" Glock snapped em back, like an old starter cap Bullets hit him a minute ago and he watched as his body kept bouncing Take that boy to the hospital That's way too much blood to take him home Yes, sonny It really does damn near sound like a hip hop song And all we gave him was his Miranda rights and a couple of seconds left to plea for his life, In front of a god and a world that he never thought loved him in the first place A n***a gotta ask us to have mercy on his soul We never even taught him how to pray before He's gonna have to remember all by himself that he has his daddy's eyes, his nana's smile, and that his grandfather wanted him to have a m**m name. One that meant ‘brown soldier boy'. A mother is going to have to find the audacity to not to take down her son's picture when company comes over, on the Eves of Christmas nights. But even behind Christ, on two crosses One both on his left and his right, Were thieves and murders of men. One of which leaned over and asked him: "Will you remember me when you reach your kingdom?" So to the boys, the boys who've made chalk outlines of so many of my childhood friends: I know I know you didn't mean to k** him. And I love you, and I forgive you. Because you know, I know a god whose mercy has already made room in his kingdom for even sinners like you.