| Children of the ghettooo, hold on They got me runnin’through my ghetto
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| First Verse:
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| They got me runnin’through my ghetto in a cold sweat,
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| I just can’t look back, sticks got your boy wet,
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| Checkin’alleys for my homies, race pass the bayou,
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| Why those five oh’s kickin’down my doors?
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| Run up in a smokehouse, it’s dark as what,
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| But I spot’em in tha corners when they lighters struck,
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| Glass pipes look like neon lights, but in the fire,
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| Lie a child of the Lord with a poisonous desire,
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| Die a G tryin’to make change, when I approach’em,
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| Even though I got a great range, I won’t smoke’em,
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| I reminisce on the happy times, we spent together,
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| J.R. High goin’half on dimes and like a feather,
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| We was floatin’in the wind fool, steady laughin',
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| Til’the day somebody killed you and got me askin'
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| Second Verse:
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| They tryin’to silence the violence and minus the menace,
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| But I’m in this to win this tryin’to break a Guieness,
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| Business as usual, it’s unpredictable,
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| Critical changes deranges the typical,
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| I terrorize, paralyze your intentions,
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| Questions answered on the day of my redemptions,
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| The lynchings, Smith And Wessons, lessons,
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| To be taught on the Block of Rock I mention,
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| Critical dimensions, yes I rest with my Hyna in the shiny sun,
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| Gotta blunt, I’m tryin’to find me one,
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| Life dream, thirteen be me number,
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| On tha right team, Sureest as a youngster,
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| Live a G-role, actin’a hero, will get’cha below,
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| I’ll be facin’Ito, but you got your life Repo’ed
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| 3rd Verse:
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| I got incredible criminals in my subliminal,
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| Minimal actions and tactics can’t stop my cynical,
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| Passion I’m blastin', trashin’the evidence,
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| Ever since birth, I’m ripped out of innocence,
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| Isn’t this beautiful? |
| The undisputible,
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| G fits me suitable, won’t hesitate to shoot a fool,
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| Up and advance, catch a blast, can you dance?
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| Like a trick shakin’ass in the back of an ambulance,
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| In a trance of confusion, havin’illusions,
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| Of mental institutions bein’my solution,
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| Who’s in my nutty head, wantin’everybody dead?
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| Red Rum feel the lead, Come through your bunk bed,
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| Now Mom said I could reach the sky if I try,
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| My soul is a lost one,
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| I’m sleep wakin’with a mutha shotgun,
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| I gotta pop one |