Baby brother, if only you had lived long enough to be a man. But you chose to be a ghetto soldier,and put the gun in your hand. You forgot to look out because here comes death riding on a black horse,there is no where to run. Pop! Pop! Went his mind as you fell to your knees,just another young victim of the black mental disease.Ghetto soldier, your only destination is below gates,where the youth of today has the the highest mortality rate. We are killing each other at the drop of a hat,and eat our pants like it's all of that.What about your mother, can't you feel her pain,every time she grabs her head to stop the chill in her brain! I just don't understand what you have been taught to believe, but ghetto soldier ,you do have a mental disease. You need to free your mind of all its clutter before you are found dying in the gutter.So stop the killing ,learn to love your brother, ghetto soldier there is no other peace.