Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Victim Of The Ghetto, artist - Freeway. Date of issue: 31.12.2002
Song language: English
Victim Of The Ghetto |
| Down in my area, chk a chk uh. real shit nigga uh |
| It’s the ROC |
| Yeah… Free… yea uh feel me. Pa pause |
| Yo. yo |
| I was born in west but migrated to north |
| Remember cold nights grindin' AK in a Taurus |
| Four door for the stick up boys if they want war |
| Fiends comin' all night all I heard was four more |
| Rocks in the cap |
| When it was jumpin' me and Rell hit dances |
| You could pick me out the crowd rockin' the cap |
| But things change |
| Cause my man Rell fightin' a body |
| On State Road where it’s so cold |
| Rockin' his blues |
| I roll with the ROC |
| Still trynna rock at a show |
| Shit ain’t like 98' niggas pockets is low |
| Which way do I go? |
| Indictments blew over |
| Man whipped a few shoulders |
| Shovel nick boulders gettin' it slow |
| Me, I’m in the studio switchin' the flow |
| Changin' the styles |
| My son and daughter need pampers |
| Cause they just shittin' them up |
| And changin' the size |
| My man Just quipped the Jags |
| See the change in his eyes |
| ; followed by |
| And I eat, sleep, buy, sell — drugs |
| Cause I’m just another victim of the ghetto |
| When I rob, steal, lie to get money, bust slugs (shots) |
| Cause I’m just another product of the ghetto |
| This is how it goes down in these ghetto streets |
| This is how it goes down in my neighborhood |
| This is how it goes down in these ghetto streets |
| This is how it goes down in my area |
| My man blingin' platinum wheel, platinum gat |
| Took a trip down south came back with platinum caps |
| I’m still trynna write platinum raps |
| But made a slight change from verse one |
| Started jugglin' packs |
| It’s like I’m travelin' backwards |
| Rewindin' the time |
| Putting four on nine |
| Must be outta my mind |
| (uh) nine, get it outta my palm |
| Just grab four and a half get it outta my trunk |
| Free we need you at the studio |
| Out to lunch — out on the block |
| These niggas just pulled out on my man |
| And the only rock I worry bout is right on my face |
| We bout to go shake, rattle his block (shots) with no plans |
| Shots fired, cops came |
| But I’m a grown man |
| I stick around till my clip is empty |
| Cops threw me on the ground |
| When my clip got empty (shots) |
| Now bars is all I see a thug is all I’ll ever be |
| I got, 11 in I was facin' a dub, got nine left |
| My click show love they write back |
| My cousin M’s son, little Di he’s so grown |
| Said he hold chrome, run blocks, and write raps |
| Wrote him right back |
| Told him I control the bones |
| Try to play the phone |
| We could rhyme and hold wax |
| Leave that drug shit alone |
| Don’t forget you grown |
| It’ll put you places where your mind can’t get you back from |
| Little nigga ain’t write me back since |
| Still supply the jail |
| L.Pridgon you got mail |
| It’s probably all the letters you wrote him |
| What you mean? |
| All the fucked up shit you told him |
| This shit from my cousin Emily I’m quotin' (uh huh) |
| Right out her letter |
| Little Di, got popped in the head trynna steal a nigga leather |
| That’s what the cops said but the streets could tell you better |