5500
Mixed messages
New York state of mind
In search for riches
And a rough terrain is what you find
Religious traditions forced upon the masses of lost souls
Looking to belong to something,
half empty hoping to become whole
Enduring the lashes of life that have you feeling like it's a never ending struggle
Sex, money, drugs, drinking your problems into your pocket
Until you slurring words and seeing double
Rent due yesterday, and tomorrow
Not a dollar to your name, and you owe too much to borrow
Hands on your head as you ponder in between thoughts about how to get that bread
And the streets seem to be calling on your name
Hungry....waiting to be fed
and those same ones on the block thinking that they winning
In the game of life...they really lose
Fighting internal battles leaving them wounded and internally bruised
Talking about "a got to make moves"
Mind frame a victim to the lifestyle that they choose
Chasing ones but don't realize it's your own people you abuse
And what about the children left behind?
Watching how you smooth talking, fast walking, everyday early on your grind
So for them....you never have the time
Reaching for something..ain't even sure what you reaching for you just keep reaching
The church seats filled with hypocrites that sit around criticizing
But don't practice what they been preaching
Children living adult lives
due to the lack of our teachings
Young girls lost in a soup of confusion
Destined for greater but settle for the broadcasted illusions
Young faces traced with sweat of sadness and pain
And the temples of their souls become victims to the using
Relationships become strained
Daddy where you at?
Father where have you been?
The silence of your absence
caused the loudness of their presence in
The say the New York state of mind
is to hustle hard and grind
But life is what you make of it,
And by your actions it's defined
And the one thing we can't count on is the ticking tock of time
It keeps going whether we progress or digress
Stay on a path to failure,
Or choose the road to success
Mixed messages is what this life consists of
And it becomes what you mold it
Mixed messages arrive daily and it's our mission to decode it
Mixed messages
New York state of mind
In search for riches
And a rough terrain is what you find
Religious traditions forced upon the masses of lost souls
Looking to belong to something,
half empty hoping to become whole
Enduring the lashes of life that have you feeling like it's a never ending struggle
Sex, money, drugs, drinking your problems into your pocket
Until you slurring words and seeing double
Rent due yesterday, and tomorrow
Not a dollar to your name, and you owe too much to borrow
Hands on your head as you ponder in between thoughts about how to get that bread
And the streets seem to be calling on your name
Hungry....waiting to be fed
and those same ones on the block thinking that they winning
In the game of life...they really lose
Fighting internal battles leaving them wounded and internally bruised
Talking about "a got to make moves"
Mind frame a victim to the lifestyle that they choose
Chasing ones but don't realize it's your own people you abuse
And what about the children left behind?
Watching how you smooth talking, fast walking, everyday early on your grind
So for them....you never have the time
Reaching for something..ain't even sure what you reaching for you just keep reaching
The church seats filled with hypocrites that sit around criticizing
But don't practice what they been preaching
Children living adult lives
due to the lack of our teachings
Young girls lost in a soup of confusion
Destined for greater but settle for the broadcasted illusions
Young faces traced with sweat of sadness and pain
And the temples of their souls become victims to the using
Relationships become strained
Daddy where you at?
Father where have you been?
The silence of your absence
caused the loudness of their presence in
The say the New York state of mind
is to hustle hard and grind
But life is what you make of it,
And by your actions it's defined
And the one thing we can't count on is the ticking tock of time
It keeps going whether we progress or digress
Stay on a path to failure,
Or choose the road to success
Mixed messages is what this life consists of
And it becomes what you mold it
Mixed messages arrive daily and it's our mission to decode it
