| Listen it’s real out here, nothing becoming easy
|
| What’s the deal out here, people be acting greazy
|
| Been a long while since we had a good hot dinner
|
| We chasin' money but that money went as fast as a sprinter
|
| It’s gettin' wild in these streets, they say that we crazy
|
| But y’all the ones building the prisons to lock up our babies
|
| Tough to get ahead when somebody’s pressing us back
|
| You created the ghetto, man, how you expect us to act?
|
| He got a pistol on him plus in his truck a machine gun
|
| Hard to learn to be a man if I never seen one
|
| Daddy locked up, yeah, they sent them people to get him
|
| Now it won’t be long 'til his son is in there with him
|
| No groceries in the house so he out here prowlin'
|
| How I’ma concentrate in class if my stomach is growlin'?
|
| No strategy, waitin' for the problems to pass
|
| Hard to play outside around broken bottles and glass, listen
|
| It’s real out here
|
| What’chu know about it?
|
| I said it’s real out here
|
| Y’all ain’t livin' this
|
| Y’all don’t care ‘bout how we feel out here
|
| Never have, never will
|
| All these years and we still out here
|
| Still out here, c’mon
|
| Plot and plan when the sun’s out and move at night
|
| They got dropped in this grease, they ain’t choose this life
|
| Hard as hell tryna make a way beyond odds
|
| You see thugs when you look at ‘em, I see young gods
|
| You see criminals and drug dealers headed for jail
|
| I see poor people tryna fight they way out of hell
|
| Dirty projects full of roaches, maybe some rats
|
| You know how hard it is tryna raise a baby in that?
|
| Any hopes, any dreams get canceled fast
|
| Y’all mad ‘cause baby girl flippin' stamps for cash
|
| You say they hustlin' the system to produce a
|
| But y’all complaining ‘bout a situation you created
|
| Enemies necessary to obtain some loot
|
| Dice game on the court, kids can’t even hoop
|
| It ain’t nothin' to hear some gunshots flyin' around
|
| Picture a five year old seein' a dead guy on the ground
|
| Watch it
|
| It’s real out here
|
| What’chu know about it?
|
| I said it’s real out here
|
| Y’all ain’t livin' this
|
| Y’all don’t care ‘bout how we feel out here
|
| Never have, never will
|
| All these years and we still out here
|
| Still out here, c’mon
|
| Stress on the mind, ain’t too many beautiful times
|
| Twenty-nine cars ridin' in the funeral line
|
| Mama’s packed in the county tryna see loved ones
|
| Broken hearted parents burying they teenage son
|
| Over nonsense somebody we know gets killed
|
| And if the streets don’t get you then the police will
|
| Catching cases on a daily basis, stressed with life
|
| CPS snatching our children left and right
|
| Hood fights every night, tension live on stage
|
| Opioids in the hood now, this ain’t no phase
|
| Never had nothing so he pullin' moves and stunts
|
| ‘cause he wanted to have some name-brand shoes just once
|
| And half the school teachers talkin' out the side of they neck
|
| They don’t care about the children, they just gettin' a check
|
| And most people that can help us be turnin' they back
|
| Until you see it in your neighborhood, then you react, listen
|
| It’s real out here
|
| What’chu know about it?
|
| I said it’s real out here
|
| Y’all ain’t livin' this
|
| Y’all don’t care ‘bout how we feel out here
|
| Never have, never will
|
| All these years and we still out here
|
| Still out here, c’mon |