You gotta love the ghetto, but everybody doesn't visit
and it isn't all bad but it's far from terrific.
Can't see ya dream but you're close enough to sniff it,
and I wrote it down as soon as I lived it.
Yeah I admit that in the ghetto the people really get inventive,
Seen a fiend take an engine out in 55 minutes
and he didn't graduate the eighth grade and was a chemist,
had a gift but did nothing with it.
That's how it is in the ghetto,
when you drive it get shifted,
dreams will get broken and your mind'll get twisted.
Money it get low and now crime is your ticket,
how you think I rhyme so wicked?
I get it from the ghetto.
Call it the land of the critic,
they only salute your hustle depending on how you get it.
But you dribble with your left hand or shoot from your pivot,
do anything if it's legitimate that'll get you out the ghetto.
I had to get it with a cricket and pitch it, whatever it was
bu*ter to spinach. And the government is really doing nothing to prevent it,
they hire new detectives and lieutenants,
that's finished in the ghetto. We need to be the ones to fix it,
teally ain't a choice, use your voice when you're gifted,
brainwashed channels like the channel when you switch it,
all they doin sellin you a gimmick and they mimic in the ghetto.
You gotta find a way to flip it,
my old G think he was brought in the world to pimp it,
always has an Amy or a Megan or a Bridget,
and as long as she's white he won't complain if she's a midget.
He's ghetto, you won't survive when you timid,
look into the mirror and locked eyes on my image.
And as God as my witness, on Todd -- Willard, on the Mob and the 5 uh huh, the ghetto.
But I remember why I did it, for all the guys on the R.I.P. shirts I printed.
Free C, he be home in a minute.
Bro I'm doin good and did it independent, beginning in the ghetto,
where a kid is fatally injured
and we lose a future lawyer or reporter or a dentist.
But most folk'll sit at home though they won't admit it thinking
total number of n***as lowered another digit in the ghetto.
But I came out exquisite, backbone rigid and my brain's an*lytic.
And I'm driven in the fast lane finna get a ticket,
with none other than some poison I was given to distribute in my ghetto.
A dirty game but I forgive it, cuz all I keep hearin' is the 50's win the pendant,
it's cold out here in the field, temperature frigid.
It's real and your sk**s will diminish just sittin' in the ghetto.