Boonaa - Boonaa Mohammed - Cats and Dogs


DOWNLOAD ALBUM AT WWW.BOONAA.COM - For bookings or other inquires contact boonaamohammed(at) or www.boonaa.comDirected and Edited by Syd Woodward, Sound Design by Ray Muloin http://getgrounded.tvCats and DogsIt's kind of dumb... but ummm,I used to think that every time it rained an angel began to cry,And it made me sad to see emotions drip from the skyAsk me why and I'd tell you that I could see it coming from a mileBut denial ain't just a river, it attacks you inner child.But he had everything a boy could every want,Money, power, respect and fancy toys to flaunt,Guys wanted to be him,Girls wanted to meet him,He was a smooth criminal, lingo was never corny,The star of countless, classic ghetto storiesLegendary general, controlled armies of lost soulsGangster and a gentleman locked in one soul,Survival was the only thing that he would ever knowA product of society so where did we go... wrongCause an eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind,You pick at karma enough and she'll stop by to say hi,I never knew which one came first, thunder or lighting,But as life takes you on a ride, the resemblance can be striking,Evil deeds resulting from a dysfunctional seed,Grew from poverty the streets is all he needs,Found comfort around pimps pushers and thugs,The only family that he ever showed true love,But could you blame him?I mean, idea plus conviction becomes reality,Oppressive systems creating another ghetto causalityJust singing that same old song,The one that begins in the womb and ends in a tomb,Plenty of brothers have taken the exact same path,Did dirt but always searched for a nice clean bath,His name rang bells from high schools to prison cells,The word on the street was about his latest confrontation,Rolling through projects armed with nothing but a reputation,Lived life to the fullest, but when it rains it poursAnd Good deeds can't necessarily feed the poorSo he stole from the rich and he stole from the poor,People tried to help him but he just wanted more,He had angles and demons perched on both shoulder engaging in immortal combatFighting to control his mind and use his tongue as a door mat,He would say things, than contradict with his actions,Leaning towards the devils satisfaction, he was living life too fast.Locked in a cage practically every summer,Collect three-ways connecting the dumb to the dumber,Friends were not friends, simply there for the moment,Praying for his downfall, but he would never know it,Karma eventually caught up and it wasn't safe for him or his family,Could have stayed underground but he was way too manly,Because you can take the boy out of the jungleBut you can't take the jungle out of the boy,The stress in his voice meant that he knew it was coming,I think he let it happen because he was sick of runningAnd as you probably guessed, past tenses indicate that he is no longer present,Just another statistic to be brought up during the next stinkin elections,Nothing special, despite the impact he had on so many lives,When he died I couldn't even force myself to cry,Because I said goodbye a lot sooner than most,I remember when he was a king but now he's just a ghost,He taught me so many things; he was skilled in so many ways,He could have been so many things but he was killed in broad day,He really let me down, he said that everything would be okay... but he liedBecause I'm looking out my window...And it' still raining outside.
Boonaa Mohammed
Be the first to comment