Released: June 30, 2009

Songwriter: Blaq Poet

Producer: Gem Crates DJ Premier

All types of situations
Everybody dealing their own shit
You know I'm saying

Yow, you know what, I give you 3 situations right now
A thief, a mobster and a bum
Bring the shit down

[Verse 1]
I'm just sitting here contemplating
Yo I'm tired of waiting
When one is God, the other one's satan
And he telling me, "Go get that money again"
And I'm telling him, "Fuck you, I'm tryna win"
God is the only one keeping me sane
Keeping me from outside in the rain with them thangs
Busting niggas upside their mothafucking head
Taking their pat plus only little bread
Making the streets hot, making the heat pop
Not giving a fuck as long as I see gra
Everybody fool nobody move
Sticking everything, even the old crippled dude
That's foul! Yeah, I know that it is
So what, I even take candy from kids
On the mission without a pot to piss in
Hearing all kinds of voices, I'm tryin' not to listen

[Hook, 2x:]
It don't matter
The shit that you're facin
Everybody got their own situation
If you're livin in a mansion or a fuckin basement
Everybody got their own situation

[Verse 2]
Maybe I should go to church and find god
Before i end up dead or behind bars
Look for a legit job, quit the mob
Before the DA get some new shit to charge
The street's more than just watching us attacking
Every time i tryna leave, I find my way back in
The feds got my phone tapped, tryna peep
Who's really my peeps, who's running the streets
Wife be mad, she's calling me a creep
Paparazzi caught me on the beach with some freaks
I can't worry about that right now
A new family's in town, they tryna get down

[Hook, 2x:]
It don't matter
The shit that you're facin
Everybody got their own situation
If you're livin in a mansion or a fuckin basement
Everybody got their own situation

[Verse 3]
I'm just minding my business not bothering you
Looking through the garbage can for some food
Looking for a nice warm place to sleep
Go down to the subway and bits to streets
I gave up hope a long time ago
Straight from the war, right the skid row
I still hear people screaming in the dark
I still smell the burned body parts
I'm mentally unfit, but who gives a shit
Not the government, not the president
Only time people care is on the holidays
So leave me alone and just let me go my way
And be happy that you ain't me
Some people are scared and some people hate me
People fear what they don't understand
What would you do if you was that homeless man?

[Hook, 2x:]
It don't matter
The shit that you're facin
Everybody got their own situation
If you're livin in a mansion or a fuckin basement
Everybody got their own situation

Blaq Poet

Blaq Poet (born May 31, 1969 as Wilbur Bass) is an American rapper from Queensbridge, New York.