| Still livin in the ghetto
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| After all this time, through all the climb
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| Still livin in the ghetto
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| Don’t let it take your mind
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| Yo I was born here, my momma was born here
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| Her momma was born here, my father was born here
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| And his father was born here, and we all here, livin in fear
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| My peers are either dead or in prison for years
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| How many generations, get caught, in a perpetuation
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| Of poverty, robbery becomes a occupation
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| Look around, it’s pure desolation
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| And desperation, feel the sweat, from the persperation
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| See it’s hot in hell’s kitchen, a lot fell victim
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| Everyday we in a fight, how can we beat the system?
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| All this time got out mind conditioned
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| We find solace in religion, Muslim or Christian
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| We bow down on our knees and hope somebody listenin
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| But all we promised for narcotics is a drug conviction
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| Every day is like Russian roulette
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| It’s the next century and we ain’t got shit yet y’all
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| Uhh, when will it go away, when will there be a day
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| That we all got paper just to throw away
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| When will the tables turn, when will the devils burn
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| When will the time come when seeds be the main concern
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| A hungry man is a angry man
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| Gotta freak some type of plan to get some up in the hands
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| See life is like a hustle and it’s colder than a whore’s heart
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| But when you comin from the ghetto that’s a rough start
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| By the time you 12, you know the street life very well
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| Stuck in hell, neighborhoods are one big holdin cell
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| The hood life nevertheless been a good life
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| But should life constantly consist of stress and strife
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| They don’t play us, cause they know we represent peace
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| And they don’t no peace, they want us killin with a piece
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| Or up North with some grease, with a photograph of some peeps
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| Just lettin us slug it out, 'til we all become deceased
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| Jean the dopefiend who keep all her cars clean
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| And Mr. Mack who smoke cracks on the weekend
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| That music upstairs is comin from the Puerto Ricans
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| Arabs sellin guns in the store
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| Nigerians pump the diesel yo, that’s so raw
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| Cornerbound Dominicans play the block in the daytime
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| With names like Jose, Plantano, or Reyes
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| Me and you grow or as a result stay as, a
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| Victim of block day, an hour earlier
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| He fought with his fists now the nigga layin twisted
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| Swirlin smoke your girl and coke and guns
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| The Sherling coat, that you bought for you and your suns
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| Can be replaced, but you could get laced
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| Oh they hit him in the face, it was awful, terrible for his family
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| To see him laid like that, said he was comin right back
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| It was fast, seen the fire, heard the blast |