[Intro]
Now little Terry got a gun he got from the store/
He bought it with the money he got from his chores/
He robbed a candy shop, told her, Lay down on the floor/
Put the cookies in the bag, take the pennies out the drawer/
Lil' Khalil got a gun he got from the rebels/
To kill the infidels and the American devils/
A bomb on his waist, a mask on his face, prays five times a day and listens to heavy metal/
Little Alex got a gun he took from his dad/
That he snuck in the school is his black book bag/
His black nail polish, black boots and black hat/
He gon' blow away the bully that just pushed his ass/
[Verse 1]
I killed another man today, shot him in his back as he ran away/
Then I blew up his house with a hand grenade/
Cut his wife throat as she put her hands to pray/
Just five more dogs then we can get a soccer ball, that’s what my commander say/
How old? Well I'm like ten, eleven/
Been fightin' since I was like six or seven/
Now I don't know much 'bout where I'm from/
But I know I strike fear everywhere I come/
Government want me dead so I wear my gun/
I really want the rocket launcher but I'm still too young/
This candy give me courage not to fear no one/
To feel no pain and hear no tongue/
So I hear no screams and I shed no tear/
If I'm in your dreams, then your end is near, yeah/
[Chorus]
Little weapon, little weapon, little weapon, we're callin' you/
There's a war, if the guns are just too tall for you/
We'll find you somethin' small to use/
Little weapon, little weapon, little weapon, we need you now, now…/
[Verse 2]
Now here comes the march of the boy brigade/
A macaw parade of the toys he made/
And in shimmers shades, who look half his age/
About half the size of the flags they wave/
And camouflage suits made to fit youths/
'Cause the one off of dead soldiers hang a lil' loose/
Where AK-47s that they shootin' into heaven
Like they tryin' kill a Jetson/
that struggles little recruits/
Cute, smileless, heartless, violent/
Childhood destroyed, devoid of all childish ways/
Can't write their own names/
Or read the words that's on their own graves/
Think you gangsta, popped a few rounds?/
These kids'll come through and murder a whole town/
Then sit back and smoke and watch it burn down/
The graves get deeper the further we go down/
[Chorus]
[Verse 3]
Imagine if I had to console/
The families of those slain I slayed on game consoles/
I, aim my hole, right trigger to squeeze/
Press up and Y, one less n*gga breathe /
B for the bombs,/
press pause for your moms/
Make the room silent,/
she don't approve with violent/
games/
She leave, resume activity/
Start in blue heart, subpar sharp wizardry/
On next part I, insert code/
To sweeten up the little person's murder workload/
Artillery work fo', C I A with A/
A operative, a operate this game all day/
I hold the controller connected to the soldier/
With weapons on his shoulders, he's only seconds older/
Than me, me, playful but serious/
Now keep that on mind for on line experience/
[Chorus x2]