Let me take you back to the pain and the misery,
Back when I was born it's history, but mystery.
1993, didn't know what was to be,

Livin' off benefits, but mum always managed,
To feed us all food, and although she panicked,
Her tears were never seen, single mum with nothing,

Four kids, completely different, kinda stopping,
Her from achieving, anything she's dreaming,
1st child intelligent and proper, the second only saw a lot o'-

the darkness, couldn't see the light, gave into the system without a fight,
3rd was alert, but naive and believed his life was normal,
4th was precious, anything, but horrible,

The 2nd was the background to grim events, made some nasty mates who saw him as a fence,
to be hopped over, bullied and confused, that's how he lost his way,
One time in Southampton, a happy Christmas Day,

His "boys" broke into our empty house, $#&@ed around and burnt it down,
Never got caught, so how's that allowed? I bet that they're proud,
I didn't let it get to me, livin' in a house with no electricity.

I used to think 'Is it me? Have I done it wrong?'
God must of heard my song, gave Paul a job and it got a little easier,
but the pain came back "God is there any pleasing ya?"

Car was stolen and destroyed, then back came the flames, but this time not his boys,
It was all him. Woken up early morning, stretched, started yawning, then saw the smoke- crawling,
Up past my window, outside, not in though,

Rushed downstairs, dazed and confused,
Lookin' at my brother- I saw weed abused,
He packed up and went down South, to sort himself out,

but as life went up, my mind went down,
Year 7- Class clown, grades began to drown,
needed to swallow my pride, stop living for tomorrow, and that's when I died,

And PEZ was born, selfish and wicked, oh and rebellin'
laughed in the faces of yellin' teachers or parents, preachers, not caring
Only gave a $#&@ about the clothes I was wearing,

Every sentence.. swearing.

Chorus:

Life can only go on the up,
So to the people who don't give a $#&@,
Death ain't the answer, don't need a rope,

Just listen to your heart, and have a little hope. x2

Verse 2:

Now I'm 18 on the surface I'm quiet,
But in my heads there's a riot,
Hate is what I'm feelin', barely even feedin' myself,

don't care about my health,
Just dream of my wealth,
Although, I know, that they're laughing,

I'm being serious I'm only happy when I'm rapping,
Attacking and killin' with my words, vowels, syllables, metaphors and verbs.
Noone actually cares for, or, about me,

People only shout me when there's nobody else,
When there is I'm placed back upon the shelf,
Like an old toy, am I a man? Or just and old boy?

I'm frail, I'm weak, just need to speak,
The truth from my heart, so rap is where I start,
I use it to shine a little light on my dark,

Life that I'm livin', imprisoned, no joke,
wanting to choke, and die, no rope,
Need a bloke, to come and kill me? Nope,

It's simple all I need is hope.
Chorus. x1