| Yeah, big spit, it’s that Bay Area game, Sean T beats
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| We feedin the underground with this Yay Area tycoon shit
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| For my nigga JT Fig', y’all know where it come from
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| Never forget it, that Bay Area shit mayne
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| Y’knahmtalkinbout? |
| Yeah!
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| Game, spit that shit
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| Hey yo the kid still at it, woke up from that coma
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| Seen hell came back and here comes my first classic
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| Still chop it up at the table, still put dope in the bag
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| And still got dope, under the mattress
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| It was hustle before rappin, nuttin before that and
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| 12 years old, a lost soul, bumpin «Illmatic»
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| Gunshots tried and almost took the young kid’s live
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| Can’t do it I been through it the young kid survived
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| Got the ghetto on my shoulder homie, it’s gon' be a long ride
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| Bear with me, I’mma take you there with me
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| Show you how the sun shine in one rhyme, no more stormy weather
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| Streets is mine, we gon' live forever
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| Get it together 'Pac is watchin, Big is listenin
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| Eazy is talkin to us, Big Pun is witnessin
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| While they souls still glistenin in ghettos from Compton to Brooklyn
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| The shells cry, every hood’s anthem
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| Where everybody goes to church and prayers are never answered
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| And they throwin' us curveballs but we Hank Aarons
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| A picture with no canvas, streets are so skanless
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| Young’uns jump rope, play ball with fiends and dope handlers
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| Teenage mothers, deadbeat fathers, no families
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| Lost and often runaway or live with grandparents
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| Life stories with no authors, see it through, Robinson’s cubicles
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| When time life is so beautiful
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| Walk with me we can make it if we try, lost soldiers sometimes
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| We gotta die but it’s okay to cry
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| Mothers strugglin tryin to survive, reach out grab my hand
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| I got’cha, won’t let you go for nuttin, I promise
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| Praises due to Elijah Muhammad, peace be unto Farad Muhammad
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| Words of Minister Farrakhan
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| Been true, be loyal, know your roots, water your soil
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| Stop fightin amongst ourself from birth we royal
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| Who’s king we fightin over a crown, while lifeguards
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| Watch the hopes and dreams of kids and young teens drown
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| More infants bein born with AIDS, more parents mournin graves
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| The plot thickens, somebody show us the way
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| Tears crackin the pavement, streets breakin up
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| The thrill is gone and it’s a long walk home
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| So we might as well start runnin, if it’s there gotta take it
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| 'Member Jada said «We Gon' Make It»
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| And it shouldn’t take 9/11 to bring our minds together
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| Shit rough we’ll grind together
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| Light a candle we can shine forever or I can pass
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| So I won’t miss Aaliyah’s concert in heaven
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| Live life while we listen to my old heads
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| So I glow like the memory of Lisa 'Left Eye' Lopez
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| Through a six-seven Brougham, ride with me through the hood mayne
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| Where street lights flicker and Chuck Taylors hang
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| And nobody know they neighbor’s name 'less they sell weed or cocaine
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| A lot of black clouds on a block but no rain
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| And Game got a lot to say, so they wanna take me down
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| In my own front yard like Marvin Gaye
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| Can’t do it by myself, people need help
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| Keep on tryin to live healthy 'til the end of my days
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| And when I die won’t lead my daughter astray, lookin from heaven
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| Watch my people drive my coffin through the Compton parade
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| I’m in the city where it’s strange where killers follow direction
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| And trail witness protection to get a shot at they brain
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| Where the babies carry semis and swallow pills for power
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| Count paper for polly’n, penny-pinch for hours
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| Take sacks from cowards when the streets is watchin
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| Tuck guns in trunks cause real G’s is boxin
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| Ain’t no other options if you stand on your own two
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| And if you came to battle you can stand in the phone booth
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| Cause we don’t wear capes in this part of the land
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| Cause every youngster from my block has been a part of the plan
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| I’ve been trainin since eighty-seven and famous since eighty-nine
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| Teaching came from the Nation, my spirit is from divine
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| When I, pass the word through these raps on beats
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| It’s fo’sho' that the Lord gon' make the whole track speak
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| To the streets, when I pass these beats
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| It’s fo’sho' that the Lord gon' make the whole track speak
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| To the streets, y’knahmtalkinbout people?
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| Make the track speak, «Truth Rap,» get it right
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| «Truth Rap» mayne, for the people, get it right, «Truth Rap» |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Truth Rap (Featuring Sean T, The Game), artist - JT The Bigga Figga. Album song Who Grind Like Us?, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп