Lyrics
Mama working Over time Just to feed a Dreamer She knows if she Plants the seed Then he won’t see it either So we grind For richer hands Working in this stolen land Pockets made with Bigger holes Though the richest man Got the poorest soul I pray for the mom Whose son she weeps Blood staining our Pretty pretty concrete Worst part is the boy died in the street So I guess he’s roaming now Because my city don’t sleep Yolo is the logo in the city that I’m from Real men count while boys point guns Tell me how far will that get you Tell me Tell me how far will that get you
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