Little Weapon (Feat. Bishop G And Nikki Jean)

"Now little Terry got a gun he got from the store He bought it with the money he got from his chores He robbed a candy shop, told her 'Lay down on the floor Put the cookies in the bag, take the pennies out the drawer' Lil' Khalil got a gun he got from the rebels to kill the infidels and the American devils A bomb on his waist, a mask on his face Prays five times a day and listens to heavy metal Little Alex got a gun he took from his dad that he snuck in the school is his black book bag His black nail polish, black boots, and black hat He gon blow away the bully that just pushed his ass... "" [Lupe Fiasco - Verse One] I killed another man today.. Shot him in his back as he ran away Then I blew up his hut with a hand grenade Cut his wife throat as she put her hands to pray ""Just five more dogs, then we can get a soccer ball"" that's what my commander say How old - well I'm like ten, eleven Been fightin since I was like six, or seven Now I don't know much ‘bout where I'm from But I know I strike fear everywhere I come Government want me dead so I wear my gun I really want the rocket launcher but I'm still too young This candy give me courage not to fear no one To feel no pain and hear no tongue So I hear no screams and I shed no tear If I'm in your dreams, then your end is near - it's ME [Chorus: Nikki Jean] Little weapon, little weapon, little weapon We're calling you...little boy If the guns are just too taaaaall, for you We'll find you something smaaaaall, to use Little weapon, little weapon, little weapon We need you now, now.. [Lupe Fiasco - Verse Two] Now here comes the march of the boy brigade A macaw parade of the toys he made And shamogs in shades, who look half his age About half the size of the flags they wave And camouflage suits made to fit youths cause the one off of dead soldiers hang a lil' loose Where AK47s that they shootin into heaven like they tryna kill a Jetson that struggles little recruits Cute, smileless, heartless, violent Childhood destroyed, devoid of all childish ways - can't write their own names or read the words that's on their own graves Think you gangsta, popped a few rounds? These kids'll come through and murder a whole town Then sit back and smoke and watch it burn down The graves get deeper the further we go down It's lit-tle WEA-pon... [Chorus] [Bishop G - Verse Three] Imagine if I had to console the families of those slain I slayed on game consoles I, aim my hole, right trigger to squeeze Press up and Y, one less nigga breathe B for the bombs, press pause for your moms Make the room silent, she don't approve of violent games - she leave, resume activity Start in blue heart, subpar sharp wizardry On next part I, insert code to sweeten up the little person's murder workload I tell him he work fo', CIA with A A operative, I operate this game all day I hold the controller connected to the soldier with weapons on his shoulder, he's only seconds older than me - WE, playful but serious Now keep that on mind for online experience, uh! [Chorus 2X] Lyrics submitted by antwone. "