Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Child Of The Ghetto, artist - Cam'Ron. Date of issue: 28.04.2008
Song language: English
Child Of The Ghetto |
| Let’s do the Eastside one time |
| Metro North, East river, Wilson, Club 99 |
| Jefferson, Charleston, A.K., Jackie Rob, Clinton, Taft, Carver |
| Lakeview, 1990, Wagner, Taihino, Harlem |
| I don’t care if you a old head, or a young buck |
| I’m not a elevator, I’m no come-up |
| Nor do I go down, do like Brand Nubian, slow down |
| Whole clique, blow pounds |
| Silencers steady, that’s no sound |
| Circle ya block ock, merry-go-round |
| Here we go now, I’m the owner |
| You the pitcher, this block is your mound |
| Buildin' a beast so villains can eat |
| I reside on the West, chilled on the East |
| If I say that I rock, then sayin' is gossip |
| I lived in the nine, stayed in the projects |
| Scored 39 then I wait for a profit |
| Taught, pull the 9 then I spray up a object |
| Homie, don’t confuse me, pardon mine |
| I’m the Harlem World Karlton Hines |
| Get it right nigga |
| A child of the ghetto, nobody explain it to me |
| Livin' the scripture the picture they painted for me |
| Knew what it wasn’t, it wasn’t to gain a degree |
| Rippin' and runnin', they gunnin' and aimin' for me |
| A child of the ghetto, nobody explain it to me |
| Livin' the scripture the picture they painted for me |
| Killa, uh, uh. |
| I don’t really buy jewelry, I take 'em |
| I don’t listen to artists dog, I break 'em |
| I don’t really look at movies, I make 'em |
| I’m filet mignon, and you a steak-um |
| Any beef, I’ma open it probably |
| I got some dudes hopin' ya try me |
| I got hoes, sell coke in a lobby |
| I’m rich bitch, sellin' dope is a hobby |
| You peepin' at candy, heat did they hand me |
| I be in the Lamby, you with your family |
| Talkin' gangsta, the church ya visit |
| You’re roller bladin', circus and picnics |
| The underworld, the circuit I live in |
| You keep your biscuit, we’re workin' with chickens |
| That’s the rules that were laid to me |
| Why you think they call me KFC |
| You don’t know me homie |
| A child of the ghetto, nobody explain it to me |
| Livin' the scripture the picture they painted for me |
| Knew what it wasn’t, it wasn’t to gain a degree |
| Rippin' and runnin', they gunnin' and aimin' for me |
| A child of the ghetto, nobody explain it to me |
| Livin' the scripture the picture they painted for me |
| Killa, Killa. |
| '91 to '96, yeah Harlem was out |
| Grant’s Tomb, balled out in Laguardia house |
| Huh, stand in the lobby, Cam and his posse |
| Steak and cheese sandwich from Heaugies |
| It come to her-on, the biggest of Dons |
| Since, Guy and Nicky, Fisher and Barnes (snitch) |
| Triggers and bombs, hit the alarm |
| I would, kick in the door, click on ya moms |
| I fell to the arm, in jail we roasted |
| If bail was there, bail got posted |
| Like, in Boston at one point boo |
| The bail it was 1 point 2, get the money nigga |
| A child of the ghetto, nobody explain it to me |
| Livin' the scripture the picture they painted for me |
| Knew what it wasn’t, it wasn’t to gain a degree |
| Rippin' and runnin', they gunnin' and aimin' for me |
| A child of the ghetto, nobody explain it to me |
| Livin' the scripture the picture they painted for me |