Back home...
Everybody's searching for some
But all they can find is a whole lot of nothing
Back home...
Ain't nobody hoping and praying
'Cause they feel like nothing can save them
And they try to hold out 
But they can't fight the fact 
That life goes black when those lights go out
But I guess you gotta just watch out for you own
'Cause ain't a [bad word] thing free,
Back home...

Back home... 
They holler "disciple" and "blackstone",
Same block they freebase, yo, we trapped on,
Where our grandmothers marched, the guns clap on
The liquor stores, beauty supplies, and rap songs
I travel the world just [bad word] back to it
The Crips got a lot of 
Soul like black music
I'm attached to it
In many ways this city raised me 
And gave me the drama, 
Honor, and bravery
The streets seem hollow when I go to Chicago
It's cheap wine and sorrow
Times is hard to swallow
In search of God's tomorrow 
I borrow words from the Bible
And use them for survival, gang rivals
Signs painted on walls like hieroglyphics
I tell them that this is all tribal,
Used to do dirt 
Shorty's goin' through the same cycle
And trials like Michael, 
Trying not to stay idle

Back home...
Everybody's searching for some
But all they can find is a whole lot of nothing
Back home...
Ain't nobody hoping and praying
'Cause they feel like nothing can save them
And they try to hold out 
But they can't fight the fact 
That life goes black when those lights go out
But I guess you gotta just watch out for you own
'Cause ain't a [bad word] thing free,
Back home...

Back home... 
It's [bad word] but close
The same problems exist and the pain throbbing
And folks are [bad word] It don't really bother us much we just swallow it, uh
Crack the bottle and smoke, 
Hope tomorrow something
Magical happens that'll put me back in the biz
But the chances of it actually happening's kinda slim
Back home... 
we get the good life at a glimpse
In the form of a rap star, [bad word] dealers, and pimps

I'm back home..
I try my best to keep it together, it's cold
Like the windy city streets of December
I pace back and forth, 
Looking for the courage to shine
But cant trap the source, 
Need somethng to nourish my mind
I know we all lose quite a bit in life only 
To gain some life 
Of the dark winding roads we came from
But I move with the night 
So I'm used to the shade and never lose sight, 
Bringing [bad word] back to the game

Back home... 
we've got a lot of [bad word] on our minds
We're always behind on something cause there's not enough time
And we're non-stop, bottom line, 
Doing what we gotta do to get some food in the fridge 
And stay out the hospital
Back home... 
There's people calling us hopeless
People trying to tell us all we need is some focus
But focus, focus is overrated
Cause you see every blemish and mistake 
And can't change it
Back home is Alvarado, 
K-Town and J-Town
Or Little Tokyo - for those that don't know
Where figures shiver, 
Living right in the litter
Where kids write bigger right inside the LA river
On the concrete, a symbol of our everyday way
It that color and concentration 
Over heavy and prey
And by the time the ink dries on this page
I'll be half a day away from the place where I stay

Back home...
Everybody's searching for some
But all they can find is a whole lot of nothing
Back home...
Ain't nobody hoping and praying
'Cause they feel like nothing can save them
And they try to hold out 
But they can't fight the fact 
That life goes black when those lights go out
But I guess you gotta just watch out for you own
'Cause ain't a [bad word] thing free,
Back home...