Propaganda - I Ain't Gave Up On You Yet Lyrics

Yeah, I met this girl when I was eight years old
What I loved most: she had so much soul
When the 10 and 101 meet, the sight was so breathtaking
Murals the size of buildings, LA River
When you black among eses, gangbanging ain't an option
But that Krylon aroma made a brother feel alive
And it feel like the Creator made boom-bap just for me only
Radio made the night not so lonely
That's why I wanna fight when I hear them thug phonies and gangstas
Acting like crack was our savior
And at times I can't stand you, but stand I must
Love is patient and long-suffering, it's all in your head

And at times hip-hop makes me very upset
But I ain't gave up on it yet
And at times America makes me very upset
But I ain't gave up on it yet
And low-key, my own people make me very upset
But still ain't gave up on them yet
And at times, my own city make me very upset
But still ain't gave up on it yet

That family tree's a groundhog day of ignorance
Juke joints, speakeasys, been on that ratchetness
Granddad ran the numbers, got mama out the hood
DC was so crazy in the 30's, let me tell ya
Uncle Timmy and Alan and Hubbard, they all suffer from
Them typical pitfalls, front like ya'll ain't feeling me
Ya'll know a line of Appalacia Mountain bootleggers
This transcends race; ya'll got moonshine coursing through your veins
Don't cha? Them is crimes of survival
Tax evasion, white collar, pre-Great Depression
They say New York trying to escape the same thing
It's life but be patient, boy, it's all in your head

And at times hip-hop makes me very upset
But I ain't gave up on it yet
And at times America makes me very upset
But I ain't gave up on it yet
And low-key, my own people make me very upset
But still ain't gave up on them yet
And at times, my own city make me very upset
But still ain't gave up on it yet

Little brother, I feel you, Vato drive slow
Vans with no plates, he's second generation
His tio from Sina Loa smuggling people biz
Collotes in training, bald heads and tattoos
Slanging social security numbers, I'm from the 626
I know it well, down that 1-10
Bye abuelita, green card grandpa still works hard
Only one with good sense, dime a donde vas?
Vaya con Dios mijos tres puntos, calmate homie
Corrale, corrale! I see it in his ojos
You feel trapped, don't you? You feel like "Why me?"
But it's all in your head

And at times hip-hop makes me very upset
But I ain't gave up on it yet
And at times America makes me very upset
But I ain't gave up on it yet
And low-key, my own people make me very upset
But still ain't gave up on them yet
And at times, my own city make me very upset
But still ain't gave up on it yet