Crooked I - All My Life (Remix) lyrics

[Intro: Will.I.Am] The ghetto, ghetto, g-ghetto The ghetto, ghetto, g-ghetto Oh, haha, oh! Oh, haha, oh! [Verse 1: Jay Rock] Still riding through the ghetto with the metal right on side of me k** a California n***a, palm trees and poverty East side, wild city; got my block with me Bags of that kush, big bottles, sip a lot of Henny In the ghetto with my goons and my real b**hes Nothing but a B thang, show you where we bang (Nickerson!) Hurry on the grind, getting Benjamins Yeah, we either selling a pill or meds for dividends Keep heaters for the evil trying to greet us d**h around the corner, you don't want to meet the reaper All we know is Blood money, we ain't never had a visa Trying to wade in that reefer, only thing that could feed us Had the ghetto with my Bloods since the days of a fetus Raised by the streets, so it's nothing you can teach us Bring the word like a preacher Jay Rock a.k.a bring the real to the people [Hook: Will.I.Am] In the ghetto, ghetto, g-ghetto G-ghetto, ghetto, g-ghetto I comes from the bottom but now I'm on top Ain't no one stop me yo I comes from the ghetto, ghetto, g-ghetto Where all of my n***as, where all of my n***as And all of my n***as will roll up in the spot And get ghetto, ghetto, g-ghetto [Verse 2: Eastwood] They say the boy abeast on the mic like whoa When the homies show him love? Like, everywhere he go Black rag up the back pocket, different than the 'fo West coast until I'm gone, I'm here to let you n***as know Eastwood in this motherf**er, swanging like I wanna Even if I have to push a couple rocks on the corner I posted on the corner, blowing that marijuana With a loaded .45, for haters that really want it [Verse 3: Omar Cruz] Not just because I don't really carry contraband and guns Living that thug life, cause only homies show me love What you expect from us? All we know is the hood and d** It was the debt on us, that's why they keep us in the slums But I was built for more and can't let the ghetto can't stop me Why go to war, when they shoot me here like paparazzi I gotta make it out cause nobody else will And momma love to see me up in XXL (Oh cool!) [Verse 4: ScHoolboy Q] You n***as know wHo it is, and it's easy to see (yeaH) Number-one emcee, it ain't easy to be (naH) Twin Glock ain't sHow wHen I'm speaking the flows Get snobbisH on a b*tch, I ain't speaking to Hoes (b*tch!) Still grinding every day, stay puffing a blunt Cops are robbing (hell no!), we play Crips and Bloods Make it rain on the streets, still make it flood (ScHoolboy Q!) Yeah, roll out the rug [Verse 5: Ab-Soul] Ab-Soul, what you gonna tell me I ain't trying to see the grave, I'm just want to get paid In full, like Ace, 'til my momma's straight And if I go to jail, tell momma I'm straight Cause I, chose this life, and now I lead it Got too rich - got two cents? Keep it Cause you might need it, more than I All My Life Remix, brought to you by: [Hook] [Bridge: Gla**es Malone] This what you doing for town, huh Rock Watts that's what it do, Watts stand up All my life, yeah I've been waiting for this [Verse 6: Gla**es Malone] No Rocka-fella had me pissed off But Mack and Stunna Man make the pain get lost Now I'm popping on the charge, like a tube of lip gloss Breaking old n***as off, like I'm hella Rick Ross Scream "New West" had everybody pounding Like I give a f**, tell them do something about it Waited my turn, yeah feel my buzz Now it's me and Jay Rock, and all eyes on us, uh [Verse 7: Crooked I] I, I, I know you coppers expect me to fail Oh well, I'm living life on the executive scale You want to do me like Sean Bell, never spend a second in jail Go to hell, I got records to sell Me and Jay Rock getting this cheese You can ask my homie Adolf, he repped them n***as and G's I'm in Long Beach, feeling the breeze Nobody graduated on my block, it's still is a million degrees [Verse 8: Nipsey Hussle] I came in this game with a dollar and a dream Posted on a block, blue collar wasn't me My momma put me out, and I would step up in the streets But I ain't mad at her, cause it made me a beast I come from the era of the "f** The Police!" Where tinies pick you up and drop you off down the street And say I'm too street and pay b**hes on these beats But they all ever seem to hear is RSC [Verse 9: Sinful] Vamos, todo mi vida en el barrio no supe mas Long Beach California, the cinos de Watts Mira como abrazo el bloke a yo Y ahora mira lo que toque, yo No más pistolas y rosas, no No más mi con fácil copas, no Aprendí si no hay pratsa nadie avanza El barrio nos hypnoto chansas y los planchas Amor a las calles, que me criaron a mi A ese que murió porque me brincaron a mi Fuiste lo mas real desde que te conocí Mucha sangre, mucha lágrimas yo lo vi El esfuerzo tatuado en mi cuerpo El mejor secreto guardado por cierto Descanso con un ojo despierto Silencio soy el águila del siento [Verse 10: Ya Boy] I used to Christmas shop in the dollar store And let a boy spend guap at the Prada store I gotta, thank God for my rhyming though Beause everyone in the hood trying to blow And I ain't trying to say I got it honest though, cause I was right there at that corner store I had it all - from the pills to the pot to blow I even had cream, like Rocky Road I thought getting out the hood was impossible That's all I know, I ain't that responsible So I'ma stay right here, where it's logical And I can buy this twenty-fives in popsicles All of a sudden, this rap got popping though Heard he rap, but he look so rock-n-roll Call me Ya Boy, who better? Cause I got the note If you ain't talking money, then I got to go. Bye! [Verse 11: Roccett] Pa** to the streets, I done mastered rap Got the black bandana with the strap to match Got the blue bandana with the Chucks to go As I rock throwback like the huxtables Man, Carson too rich, you can head to the pack We made a name down there, and they'll vouch for that You can go ask Jeezy, or go and ask Puff Go and ask Kan, I grind for mine [Verse 12: T.K.] I got a sick swagger, short as a dagger knife I'ma send us to the beach, just for bragging rights My whip lean, my shoes clean Diamond watch, low-key, off set, mint green Doing my thing, in the fast lane man I'm Terry Wayne Kennedy, you n***as not gon front at me I've been trying to be telling you n***as that be k**ing me You need to stop it [Verse 13: Problem] (You got it back, huh?) Guess who's now in the game? I got a new deal, so I bought me a chain I know it weren't smart but f** it it's gone Marshmallow-sized rocks, got the luckiest charm Pitching for the top, like I've stuck in the office Look like new waves but I'm stuck in my house n***as want to creep when they think that you on So the heat stay around me like I'm stuck in a stove, my Lord! [Hook] [Verse 14: Young Keno] (I feel you Jay) I came from a single-parent home, mom did all the dirty work Only good day is when we could hear the birdies chirp And even though I moved a little work I still suited up for a Sunday at church Then back to the block, to diss a few packs Damn, it felt good to count a few stacks This day and night though, I know it ain't right But down in the hood, man, this is our life [Verse 15: Spider Loc] I won't lie on y'all My only concern, is y'all don't lie on me My speech slurred, cause I'm buzzin' Jay Rock, they hatin' cause I'm buzzin', cousin And the blue rag kicking it harder But that red sh** is thicker than water Both feet pivot hard on the angle Hood on the pack on, stars on the ankle [Hook] [Verse 16: 211] Product of the block, young rider from the block Used to run on 'em n***as, spot and rob them with the Glock In the hood we the mind workers, hood like a job Got my enemies hot, cause I made a good buck We from ashy to cla**y, no j**els to flashing Hundred thousand dollars but still wearing khakis I'm a, I'm a hustler, I get it from my daddy I heard the ones want me, they gon' have to come and catch it [Verse 17: Bangloose] Yeah, yeah I'm at the top now, haters give me props now (Props now?) From the Fronts to the George Downs I'm on fire, that means that I'm high man I'm so co*ky, you wish you could be Bang You can't stop me, I live like the gutter lane Banging Lu so tight, like a bike chain You done f**ed up, yelling by the poolside Yeah, I ride these socks, Adidas [Hook] [Verse 18: Mistah F.A.B.] Listen to the pain of a real crack baby My daddy died, now he ain't coming back baby Momma be stressing, I told her I was blessed So worried for Christmas, she bought me a present My brother snort coke, my sister on dope My little n***a's driving, they tired of being broke In and out of jail, I'm living in hell! Little girl got raped, and she ain't even yell! [Verse 19: Roscoe Umali] I came from nothing, rose from the slums Now your boy Roscoe doing shows out in London Ain't that something? Your boy been hustling End of the day, can't say nothing from 'em God damn, I'm a good a** rapper Half these wack rappers is some good a** actors Seen them on TV, and be like that's gangsta But in real life, they ain't sh** - they can't spit [Hook]