I'm on my way home They say home is where the hate is, my dome is where fate is I stroll where souls get lost like Vegas Seen through the eyes of rebel glasses Pray to God that my arms reach the masses The young smoke grass in grassless jungles Rubber bands together in cashless bundles We wear struggling chains Provided only hustle remains Make a sense of it, we hustle for change Revolution ain't a game, it's another name For life fighting Some wanna stay in they corner like Mike Tyson Heights fighting for hits to heighten they hell Don't he know he could only get as high as he fell? Show money becomes bail Relationships become jail Children are unheld I wish love was for sale Behold the bell Horse got me trapped like Arkell Might not be such a bad idea If I never, never went home again I'm on my way home I left three days ago But no one seems to know I'm gone Home is where the hatred is Home is filled with pain And it might not be such a bad idea If I never, never went home again