| Ghetto to ghetto, backyard to yard
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| We tear it up y’all, bless the mic with the gods
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| Precious metals round our necks and arms
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| We tear it up y’all, bless the mic with the gods
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| Ghetto to ghetto, backyard to yard
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| We tear it up y’all, bless the mic with the gods
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| Precious metals round our necks and arms
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| We tear it up y’all, bless the mic with the gods
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| Whatever’s in your heart is where you want to be
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| My hood is the ghetto
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| Even when you look it’s never what you see
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| My hood is the ghetto
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| I’ve been down before up is just a reach
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| Cause my hood is the ghetto
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| Catch a second wind then begin again
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| My hood is the ghetto
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| Black magic in the hood, it’s tragic but understood
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| Crack addicts, crack windows, crack wood
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| Even what’s bad becomes good, status becomes stood
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| Upon the pedestal welcome to the ghetto show
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| Federal buildings, pissy hallways filled with children pushing children
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| Fiends lips peeling, shit seems real and
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| What’s real is the estate of mind that we’re in
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| The situation feels great
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| My man peels weight, so he can fill plates
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| You might get love but you still feel hate
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| With gang shakes and chain clinks, we communicate
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| Chicago to Brooklyn nigga real ones do relate
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| If lyrics sold, then truth be told
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| I’d probably be just as rich and famous as JAY-Z
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| Truthfully I wanna rhyme like common sense
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| Next best thing I do a record with Common Sense
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| Cause it’s the music, the blues, it’s the jazz, it’s acoustics
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| Soul, Rock and Roll, the hip-hop that we producin', yea
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| It’s the gear, it’s the flare, it’s the stare
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| Nowadays they’ll shoot you where they used to shoot the fair
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| Remember lost soldiers, pour a beer, shoot the air
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| We got our own elected officials, no matter who the mayor
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| I know you know what I’m talking about
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| From New York to the South, take off your shoes when you walk in the house
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| Whatever’s in your heart is where you want to be
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| My hood is the ghetto
|
| Even when you look it’s never what you see
|
| My hood is the ghetto
|
| I’ve been down before up is just a reach
|
| Cause my hood is the ghetto
|
| Catch a second wind then begin again
|
| My hood is the ghetto
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| Yo, I grew up where they’re playin' skelly in the parking lot
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| And sell paintings of Aaliyah, B.I.G. |
| and Pac up in the barbershop
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| Buildings too big so you don’t really see the stars a lot
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| But rappin', drinkin', and goin' to prison you see them bars a lot
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| I feel the spirit in the dark and hear it in my heart
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| And always keep my ears to the block till I dearly depart
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| Hip-hop is really the art
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| We have to express the part of ourselves that make us want to martyr ourselves
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| It ain’t harder to tell when somebody stick you up and put the hammer to you
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| They want them dead presidents like stic. |
| man and Mutulu
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| With a gun to your jaw, these kids don’t run anymore
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| Kicks is a hundred or more
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| A man in front of the store, beggin' for money and mercy
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| I told him say a prayer under his breath, he cursed me
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| Niggas is thirsty I heard it’s a drought
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| Up early, servin' from their grandmother’s house
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| Sometimes the ghetto feels desolate, the eyes of the hood yo is desperate
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| Affected by the deficit, times and lessons get hard
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| Either get by or get God, but you try to get by
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| It’s like the block keep blockin'
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| You try to make moves, its like the car keep stoppin'
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| These shorties in the court, need Cochran yea
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| I tell them while the weed seeds poppin', in the game you need options
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| No time for feet watchin', me and Kwe keep rockin' for the ghetto
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| Whatever’s in your heart is where you want to be
|
| My hood is the ghetto
|
| Even when you look it’s never what you see
|
| My hood is the ghetto
|
| I’ve been down before up is just a reach
|
| Cause my hood is the ghetto
|
| Catch a second wind then begin again
|
| My hood is the ghetto
|
| Whatever’s in your heart is where you want to be
|
| My hood is the ghetto
|
| Even when you look it’s never what you see
|
| My hood is the ghetto
|
| I’ve been down before up is just a reach
|
| Cause my hood is the ghetto
|
| Catch a second wind then begin again
|
| My hood is the ghetto |