The Last Emperor - Prisoner lyrics

[Chorus x3: w/ variations] I'm just a prisoner, ohh noo (I'm just) [Verse 1] Young man stepping off an uptown train Ground still wet from the cold hard rain Living in the city, know the streets by name Take a walk with me, come and feel my pain See what I see, come and get my glimpse Dig a little deeper that the media clips Underneath strugglers and the hardships Two bit hustlers, big time pimps Now look at little Mike, I heard he lost his dad Drank a lot of liquor, made his liver turn bad Now I see him out there serving that Yac Will he even live to be a high school grad? But see that lady named old Ms. Givens Who used to serve lunch to the homeless children Worked a lot of overtime, still got evicted Spent her last dollar on a lottery ticket I witness this from behind my gates Totally determined to decide my fate Food for thought when I'm saying my grace I wonder if I ever will escape this place [Chorus X2] [Verse 2] Now I done seen a lot of things in this town Cry me a river like the tears of a clown Made me familiar with the sites and sounds To hit ya with the rhythm so you gotta get down Shake off the blues to forget my past Forget that I'm a prisoner but still I'm trapped Stack a little cash, have a little stash You either rich or poor, ain't no middle cla** Man I'm trying to get it any way I choose Come around the way and walk a day in my shoes Same neighborhood where I paid my dues And you can see the homies on the late night news Why they out thugging trying to fire them guns Don't the realize that they mama's need sons Abusing their lives like it's gotta be done Young black male that society shuns If everything we do is so clean and so fresh Then why have we become such a people oppressed You say you don't care, hate it you I guess It's a living nightmare, but its where I rest [Chorus X2] [Verse 3] Now prison is a place full of cold hard facts Where even the innocent might get trapped Run down housing overcome by crack The teachers can't even get a good contract If it ain't the cats doing they hard bids Or the mama's out working on the graveyard shifts If it ain't the artists who display our gifts Then tell me who the hell is gonna save our kids Preacher man tell me, can it get any worse? Don't the Lord love us, are we really just cursed? With the hunger and thrist while I'm saying my grace I pray for the day we can escape this place Yeah [Chorus: repeat w/ variations]