It is hard to get inspiration, when people bring down your every word.
You look for motivation, but instead there is just anger.
Anger at the struggle young brothers go through to survive.
Anger at the sisters tossed up and to the side.
Anger at the reality sensibility makes us endure.
Anger at the childhood we left to be mature.
Whatever is the source, the outcome is the same.
There is drama in the system, and anger is its name.

For each one of us who tries to rise above the storm
Another motherfucker wants to make bullshit the norm.
He is never satisfied with working day to day.
He would rather lie and steel, leaving the rest of us to pay.
He don’t give a shit that his crimes make us look bad.
He only cares about how much Marijuana is in his bag.
Whether mister criminal is cynical, my anger is the same.
There is drama in the system, and anger is its name.

For those who walk the streets of bedlam know the way is tough and hard.
They have learned it in the schoolhouse, and seen it in the yard.
They know that no one cares if they realize the truth.
That drama is a force that is best left in our youth.
I leave you with my knowledge that drama comes from shame.
That shame reinforces drama, and Anger is its name.