(Verse 1) Yeah, I got the anthem for the youth to sing, All my people grindin’ just to chase that dream, Stackin’ paper higher than the skyline, They said we wouldn’t see twenty-five, but we alive. Laughin’ at the odds, throw your hands up high, And say, “We don’t care what they say, we fly.” If this is your first time hearin’ the sound, Get ready—something real, so profound. Never had nothin’ handed down, Built from the ground up, no handouts now, Never took from no man, I’m my own man, But I looked up to the ones ridin’ in the Benz van. Flickin’ Starter coats, man, you don’t understand, We don’t care what they say, no, we take a stand. (Chorus) This one’s for my brothers out in the cold, Who grind in the winter, dreams unfold, ’Cause summer’s comin’, but they ain’t waitin’, They say, “Next year,” but it’s all about makin’. Sittin’ in the hood, school of life, no diploma, This dope money’s a scholarship, no diploma. Ain’t no loans for the hustle, no time to wait, Gotta do somethin’, gotta elevate. Drug dealin’ just to survive, Stackin’ money high, keep the dream alive. (Kids, sing, kids, sing) Kids: We weren’t meant to make it past twenty-five, But here we stand, still alive. Throw your hands up in the sky, and say, “We don’t care what they say.” (Verse 2) Shout to my folks workin’ nine to five, Hustlin’ hard, just to keep hope alive, Six fifty-five, still tryna shine, Selling dreams, bootleg tapes, all for a dime. Layaway plans, waitin’ for the come-up, Claimin’ other folks’ kids on taxes, runnin’ up. Flip that cash, push packs, make it pay, We do what we gotta, every single day. Mama talkin’ ’bout movein’ south, Scratchin’ tickets, prayin’ for a better house. Meanwhile, my brother ran up in a stranger’s place, No job, no options, just tryna chase grace. The game’s a beast, it’s bulimic, hard to gain weight, Money’s crooked, runnin’ straight, runnin’ fake. But we keep grindin’, waitin’ for that day, When we finally get our break, our way. And we don’t care what they say, My brothers, my sisters, we just pray. Drug dealin’ just to get by, Stackin’ paper, touchin’ the sky. (Kids, sing, kids, sing) Kids: We weren’t meant to see twenty-five, But we still here, still alive. Throw your hands up in the sky, and say, “We don’t care what they say.” (Outro) You know the youth gon’ act a fool, When programs cut, and they lose school, Dyslexic, misunderstood, they sing 50’s tune, But they’re smart, they’re strong, they’ll be the soon. Teachers said they couldn’t, but they found a way, Made more cash, turned night into day. So tell my mama, I belong in the light, No more welfare, we gon’ fight for the night. Fathers gone, but we holdin’ on, When trouble comes, we just stay strong, Sometimes it feels no one understands, But we don’t care—this is our land. (Final chorus) Drug dealin’ just to get by, Stackin’ money higher than the sky, (Kids, sing, kids, sing) Kids: We weren’t supposed to survive past twenty-five, But we’re still here, still alive. Throw your hands up in the sky, and say, “We don’t care what they say.”
