Tell me how the **** am I suppose to get to somewhere when no where keeps tuggin' at me feet, starving me of sweet serenity but force feedin' me this **** called reality. Nowhere is that ***** on the corner with the bagge jeans and the fubu sweater who makes his living by sell death to my people at a fast and rapid paste. No where is that ***** in the middle of the street that sell her ***** as if it was less then a pot of gold. No where is the liquor store that on each and every corner that survives off the ignorance of our people, thinking that a bottle of gin or hit of hennessey will wash away their fears. No where is that house in the middle of the block with the ****ed up grass and the boarded up windows, yeah that house where you mother and my father meets every night to suck on a glass dick,,,,,, and they call that **** freedom Tell me how am I suppose to get to some where when no where is where I'm at?