Cops in the ghetto they move like the Gestapo
Drunk off their power and greed, they often hostile
My little homie talked shit back and they beat him bad
That boy in the hospital now he's lookin' bad
And I'm with his momma and dad we lookin' sad
My own mama called me said "Baby I'm just glad
They ain't put they hands on my child or kill his ass
Please don't rap about that shit 'fore they murder your black ass"
It's drones over Brooklyn, you blink you could get tooken
And now you're understanding the definition of "Crooklyn"
Pigs on parade but bacon fryin' and cookin'
'Cause kids tired of dying and walkin' round like they shooken'
'Cause we smoke sour to deal with the paranoia
That they charge by the hour, can't hire the Jewish lawyer
'Cause if you ain't Jigga or Puff you doin' time
And even then you might get ten, word to Shyne

Do dope, fuck hope
Do dope, fuck hope

You don't wanna look into my big crystal balls, fuck the future
We'll moonwalk through flames with a brain on stupid
Camouflage toughies'll touch your tufts roughly
Fluff your flat permanent, lump you up ruthless
Then laugh while you're humming the tune of bruised movements
That took a few too many tabs to prove lucid
(Everything compute?) Nah the truth is too tangled
And even a satellite sees at one angle
Burners radiate smoke 'till all's motionless
Hope? Nah, ha ha, slow down with the jokin' shit
So inappropriate, right behind your ears is a what?
Look, ta-dah! The sound of your hopelessness
I can feel it too, from the ground rising up in us
Right above the clouds there's a shroud there to smother us
Make a sane man walk around with a blunderbuss
Peel another round, make a sound that is thunderous

Do dope, fuck hope
Do dope, fuck hope
Do dope, fuck hope
Do dope, fuck hope

Copyright: CONCORD MUSIC PUBLISHING LLC, RESERVOIR MEDIA MANAGEMENT INC, Royalty Network
Writer(s): Jaime Meline, Michael Santigo Render