Lines on my paper like a map
To let me know where im going
To let me know what I can write
To bad I got my own mind
And my own defenition of the
"Go this Way" lines
Your going to go this this way because thats what they say
But im going to change it up
Instead of following the same long drawn out rout
I think i'll just find my own way out
Out of darkness out of danger
Out of trouble
Out of the path made straight in your mind
But in mine is nothing but rouble
Ruins left over
From the statistics you want me to be
There wont be another drop out dead-beat black baby mama
With welfair check drama
Ther wont be another yong black man lead out by your hand Or should I say the pistol you had in it
There wont be another
Blood stain left on the street for the rain to wash away because nobody cares
Ther wont be another
Wife beater
Because that boy who raised his hand Just put it down
And learned how to become a man
Taught by Maxwell and now knows
what a women's worth realy is
Left behind his childhod pains
So a better man he bacame
And her trust and love he regained
There wont be another
Highschool dropout who has no hopes or dreams with no faith to believe
Because she got up
And trusted nobody but herself
Made it to the top without the help of
Her dead-beat dad or her
Fake gansta boyfriend
Who thought he was bad
Or he drugged out mama
Who wished her child dead
There wont bve another
Little black child statistic
Because we have bettered our self
Now learn to deal with it