Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Every Ghetto, Pt. 2, artist - Talib Kweli.
Date of issue: 05.05.2020
Song language: English
Every Ghetto, Pt. 2 |
Here in the ghetto |
Everywhere |
Children are killed, children are dying |
In the ghetto |
Yea |
Silence is prayer, prayer is love, love is faith, faith is service |
When I’m cuttin' the strings of the puppets |
That live in the ghetto, Geppettos is always nervous |
They love when we clutter the gutters |
And never discover our truest purpose |
And praying in vanity, that’s the real profanity |
Not all that swears are curses |
«I swear!» |
Play it loud like Spike Lee’s father |
Bangin' the drum, when we hang in the slums |
The beat is knocking the odds are never even |
It’s far from the Garden of Eden |
The starving is robbin' and theivin' |
We bobbin' and weavin' the mark of the beast |
Like Muhammad Ali, no you’re not gonna keep me here |
Here in the ghetto |
Everywhere |
Children are killed, children are dying |
In the ghetto |
They only let you school ‘em when you got money, drugs and guns |
All up in your backpack |
Got it for days when it get darker than them Aloe Blacc naps |
Respect my name, I get disrespectful as back slaps |
When I shoot your dog then some alley cats gon' sure clap back |
Put holes in heads like snapbacks |
But in that fact I don’t mean this right, yes, demon fight |
He lean to write, bullets hit his soul, he cling to life |
That’s just what I seen, but I’m tryna change it too |
But stayin' aware at the same time, see that’s what the change’ll do to you |
This money done fucked me up a tad |
I could blame it on life, or the fact that I was an early dad |
But fuck that, that’s some cop-out shit |
Sleepin' them stereotypes on some knock-out shit |
Show these marks I ain’t playin' no games on some lock out shit |
This for them niggas that keep the work movin' when the cops out |
Cause even if I’m doing right, y’all throw the tear gas up in my house |
So I might as well get the bread cause the billy club gon' hit my head anyway |
War time, make me innovate, cop I emulate what you demonstrate |
Cause it’s here |
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 |
The leaders are asking what good is a rapper? |
(Good question) |
Well what come first, the hood or the rapper? |
(Good question) |
When factoring the nigga factories that we trapped in |
The rappin' is pretty accurate |
With love, we cold-blooded assassins |
In the ghettos are lingos |
Children with polio sellin' smack in the grid of traffic |
Killing each other for scraps, this shit is pretty graphic |
Where love resides, like This American Quilt except it’s a shitty fabric |
Malcolm said «Make it plain» but still we getting' elaborate |
The labyrinth, the towers of Babylon, the road less travelled on |
We tapping into the power within, the stables rattle on |
We put the saddle on, but hold a pale horse |
Black on black crime is a myth they make us believe with sheer force |
You can change what you wear and the effects will never wear off |
The cops shot the dealer to stop and got a man off |
Scientists too busy trying to reverse erectile dysfunction and hair loss |
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 |
Children are killing and dying in the ghetto |
Yea |
Everywhere, everywhere, everywhere, everywhere |
Everywhere, everywhere, everywhere, everywhere |
Make me wanna say |
Oooh, oooh, oooh |
Make me wanna say |
Oooh, oooh, oooh |