They see two young men. Hoodies up. Out late.
Paint on our hands. And they think they know our fate.
My pops fed the block. When the block couldn’t feed itself.
My mama taught me truth. Ain’t somethin’ you keep on a shelf.
So I don’t lie to you. I don’t take what ain’t mine.
I don’t walk past a man who’s down. Not one time.
Skinny kid with a big mouth, and they all thought I would fold
Then an old man in a gym taught me how to stand and how to hold
Work before you want, and never ask for what you didn’t earn
Own it when you’re wrong, take the hit, get up, and learn
Treat the homeless and the boss the same, look both of ’em in the face
Pray like it’s all on God, then work like it’s all on you, that’s grace

Hard start, no map, but somebody showed the way
What you give. Comes back. Every single day.

Ain’t nobody hand us nothin’ but the rules they raised us by
Keep your word, tell the truth, give respect, look a man in the eye
Lift the ones who got the least, catch a brother when he falls
That’s the message in the paint, that’s the writin’ on the walls

Two a.m., backpack full of cans, hittin’ every corner of the city
Wrong block, wrong night, you better know your hands, ’cause it ain’t pretty
Paint it for the kid who’s walkin’ past it on his way to school
So he knows somebody out here still believes in the golden rule
Paint the truth for the ones they lie to, connect the dots they hide in plain sight
So the block wakes up knowin’ more than when it went to sleep that night
Twenty-thirteen. City closed fifty schools. Most on the South and West.
Twenty-two on the West Side alone. And they called it what was best.
The system walks away. Every time. From the ones who need it most.
So a man stands where the system won’t. And he holds that post.
Not just for your kids. For the widow. For the stranger. For the ones on the floor.
For the ones who ain’t got nobody. That’s what a man is for.

Rough road, short money, still we kept our head
What you sow. Is what you reap. Like the Good Book said.

Ain’t nobody hand us nothin’ but the rules they raised us by
Keep your word, tell the truth, give respect, look a man in the eye
Lift the ones who got the least, catch a brother when he falls
That’s the message in the paint, that’s the writin’ on the walls

Rail yard in the dark, rows of boxcars sittin’ quiet, waitin’ on the crew
Paint the steel, and by mornin’ it’s gone, Chicago rollin’ through
Half the cars say live it right, the other half expose the lie
Every state, every crossin’, every town it’s rollin’ by
Kid at a crossing in a town I’ll never see reads it while the gates come down
Tell the truth, give respect, keep your word, and that’s how the word gets around

Ain’t nobody hand us nothin’ but the rules they raised us by
Keep your word, tell the truth, give respect, look a man in the eye
Lift the ones who got the least, catch a brother when he falls
That’s the message in the paint, that’s the writin’ on the walls
For your children, for their children, for the hungry and the poor
Put it on your heart, then write it on the door

Ain’t nobody hand us nothin’. But somebody stood in the gap.
Now it’s on you. For your kids. Your grandkids. The ones who fell off the map.
Tell the truth. Give respect. Lift the ones who can’t stand.
Write it on their hearts. Then write it all across the land.