| Here in the ghetto
|
| Everywhere
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| Children are killed, children are dying
|
| In the ghetto
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| Yea
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| Silence is prayer, prayer is love, love is faith, faith is service
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| When I’m cuttin' the strings of the puppets
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| That live in the ghetto, Geppettos is always nervous
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| They love when we clutter the gutters
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| And never discover our truest purpose
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| And praying in vanity, that’s the real profanity
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| Not all that swears are curses
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| «I swear!» |
| Play it loud like Spike Lee’s father
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| Bangin' the drum, when we hang in the slums
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| The beat is knocking the odds are never even
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| It’s far from the Garden of Eden
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| The starving is robbin' and theivin'
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| We bobbin' and weavin' the mark of the beast
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| Like Muhammad Ali, no you’re not gonna keep me here
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| Here in the ghetto
|
| Everywhere
|
| Children are killed, children are dying
|
| In the ghetto
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| They only let you school ‘em when you got money, drugs and guns
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| All up in your backpack
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| Got it for days when it get darker than them Aloe Blacc naps
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| Respect my name, I get disrespectful as back slaps
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| When I shoot your dog then some alley cats gon' sure clap back
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| Put holes in heads like snapbacks
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| But in that fact I don’t mean this right, yes, demon fight
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| He lean to write, bullets hit his soul, he cling to life
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| That’s just what I seen, but I’m tryna change it too
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| But stayin' aware at the same time, see that’s what the change’ll do to you
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| This money done fucked me up a tad
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| I could blame it on life, or the fact that I was an early dad
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| But fuck that, that’s some cop-out shit
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| Sleepin' them stereotypes on some knock-out shit
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| Show these marks I ain’t playin' no games on some lock out shit
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| This for them niggas that keep the work movin' when the cops out
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| Cause even if I’m doing right, y’all throw the tear gas up in my house
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| So I might as well get the bread cause the billy club gon' hit my head anyway
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| War time, make me innovate, cop I emulate what you demonstrate
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| Cause it’s here
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| Here, in the ghetto
|
| Everywhere
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| Children are killed, children are dying
|
| In the ghetto
|
| Here, in the ghetto
|
| Everywhere
|
| Children are killing and dying
|
| In the ghetto
|
| The leaders are asking what good is a rapper? |
| (Good question)
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| Well what come first, the hood or the rapper? |
| (Good question)
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| When factoring the nigga factories that we trapped in
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| The rappin' is pretty accurate
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| With love, we cold-blooded assassins
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| In the ghettos are lingos
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| Children with polio sellin' smack in the grid of traffic
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| Killing each other for scraps, this shit is pretty graphic
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| Where love resides, like This American Quilt except it’s a shitty fabric
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| Malcolm said «Make it plain» but still we getting' elaborate
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| The labyrinth, the towers of Babylon, the road less travelled on
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| We tapping into the power within, the stables rattle on
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| We put the saddle on, but hold a pale horse
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| Black on black crime is a myth they make us believe with sheer force
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| You can change what you wear and the effects will never wear off
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| The cops shot the dealer to stop and got a man off
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| Scientists too busy trying to reverse erectile dysfunction and hair loss
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| To worry about these niggas who shootin' after a stare-off
|
| Here in the ghetto
|
| Everywhere
|
| Children are killed, children are dying in the ghetto
|
| Here in the ghetto
|
| Everywhere
|
| Children are killing and dying in the ghetto
|
| Everywhere
|
| Here in the ghetto
|
| Everywhere
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| Children are killing and dying in the ghetto
|
| Yea
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| Everywhere, everywhere, everywhere, everywhere
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| Everywhere, everywhere, everywhere, everywhere
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| Make me wanna say
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| Oooh, oooh, oooh
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| Make me wanna say
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| Oooh, oooh, oooh |