We're the sons and daughters of the poor man, the middle class man,
Forced down to serve by the rich man's hand This is the perspective
Of a poor dead man's son, another kid that had to run, another life
Struggling in the age of the gun Running was only temporary, I tripped
Up and I fell I've learned from what they wanted: Silent people living
In hell, where we're taught there's a price for every man and a price for
Every piece of land Thrown into a life of stagnance, your mind's a Jail
You're raised for profit and you were born to fail Sometimes stepping out
Of line and walking away from all you know is the hardest thing to leave
Behind A new life defined, now we can defy the greedy men with the greenest
Of minds We never wanted to be seen as a commodity, I refuse to be an
Object of a vision that blinds me
Aggression
I gotta break the mold
Aggression
Never let them take control
Aggression
Hands in shackles, Mind's confined to a cage
Aggression
I won't stop until I've broken every chain