Inner City Blues (Make Me Wanna Holler) - H.E.R.

Rockets, moon shots Spend it on the have nots Money, we make it 'Fore we see it you take it Oh, make you wanna holler The way they do my life Make me wanna holler Way they do my life This ain't livin', this ain't livin' No, no, baby, this ain't livin' No, no, no, no, no Inflation, no chance To increase the finance Bills piled up sky high Send that boy off to die Oh, make me wanna holler The way they do my life Oh, make me wanna holler The way they do my life Hang ups, let downs Bad breaks, set backs Natural fact is, honey that I can't pay my taxes Oh, make me wanna holler Throw up both my hands Yeah, it makes me wanna holler Throw up both my hands Crime is increasing Trigger happy policing Panic is spreading God knows where we're heading Oh, make me wanna holler Throw up both my hands Yeah, it makes me wanna holler Throw up both my hands Hang ups, let downs Bad breaks, set backs Natural fact is, honey that I can't pay my taxes Crime is increasing Trigger happy policing Panic is spreading God knows where we're heading Oh, make me wanna holler Throw up both my hands Yeah, make me wanna holler Throw up both my hands Make me wanna holler Throw up both my hands Make me wanna holler Throw up both my hands Rockets, moon shots Spend it on the have nots Money, we make it 'Fore we see it you take it Oh, make you wanna holler Throw up both my hands Make me wanna holler Throw up both my hands Make me wanna holler Throw up both my hands Make me wanna holler Throw up my hands Make me wanna holler Throw up both my hands Make me wanna holler Throw up my hands Make me wanna holler Throw up my hands Make me wanna holler Throw up my hands Make me wanna holler, yeah Make me wanna holler, yeah Make me wanna holler Throw up my hands Make me wanna holler Throw up my hands Make me wanna holler

Going down a dirty inner city side road I plotted Madness passed me by, she smiled hi I nodded Looked up as the sky began to cry She shot it. Met a girl from Dearborn, early six o'clock this morn A cold fact Asked about her bag, suburbia's such a drag Won't go back 'Cos Papa don't allow no new ideas here And now he sees the news, but the picture's not too clear. Mama, Papa, stop Treasure what you got Soon you may be caught Without it The curfew's set for eight Will it ever all be straight I doubt it. 7 jealous fools playing by her rules Can't believe her He feels so in between, can't break the scene It would grieve her And that's the reason why he must cry He'll never leave her. Crooked children, yellow chalk Writing on the concrete walk Their King died Drinking from a Judas cup, Looking down but seeing up Sweet red wine 'Cos Papa don't allow no new ideas here And now you hear the music But the words don't sound too clear. Mama, Papa, stop Treasure what you got Soon you may be caught Without it The curfew's set for eight Will it ever all be straight I doubt it. Going down a dusty, Georgian side road I wonder The wind splashed in my face Can smell a trace Of thunder.