Text:
The Little Flames Other

Put your dukes up John, Yeah, put your dukes up John, You were preened and sanitised, Struck dumb by good advice. Your integrity was bruised, Your celebrity

You buy the magazine, It teach you who to be. You wear the uniform, You love to be adored. Your world is you, and you bore me. Your world is you, and

We fell to the street, full of noise, With a view to bring the dawn in. But clashed with the Burtons' shirts Who saw us as a chance for brawling. Well

mashed potato Back when niggaz used to rock Ballys and Clarks I used to watch, little niggaz shouldn't hustle nickel crack in the park Barrels spray the brighter flame

Left the city, my mama, she said don't come back home. These kids round killing each other, they lost their minds, they gone. They quitting school, making

pictures on my budget my main chick clitch , clutch on her stomach see chief posse beat these thug runner stunna may say it other niggas get done this my team get to it, other

waste of angels, I don't know I'd do anything to keep you safe From the danger that surrounds us Little by little, bit by bit Little bit by little bit

I remember when I was a very little girl, our house caught on fire I'll never forget the look on my father's face As he gathered me up in his arms And

this world Drifting like a feather She's not like the other girls She lives in the clouds And talks to the birds Hopeless little one She's not like the other