Talib Kweli - Ghetto Show - Anthony Hamilton lyrics

Ghetto to ghetto, backyard to yard We tear it up y'all, bless the mic with the gods (come on) Precious metals round our necks and arms (yea) We tear it up y'all, bless the mic with the gods Ghetto to ghetto, backyard to yard We tear it up y'all, bless the mic with the gods (come on) Precious metals round our necks and arms (yea) We tear it up y'all, bless the mic with the gods (Hook: Anthony Hamilton) Whatever in your heart is where you want to be My hood is the ghetto Even when you look Its 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 (Verse 1: Common) Black magic in the hood, its tragic but understood Crack addicts, crack windows, crack wood Even whats bad becomes good, status becomes stood Upon the pedestal welcome to the ghetto show Federal buildings, pissy hallways filled with children pushing children Fiends lips peeling, sh** seems real and What's real is the estate of mind that we're in The situation feels great My man peels weight, so he can fill plates You might get love but you still feel hate Through and chain plates, we communicate Chicago to brooklyn n***a real ones do relate (Verse 2: Talib Kweli) If lyrics sold then truth be told I'll probably be just as rich and famous as jay-z Truthfully I wanna rhyme like common sense Next best thing I do a record with common sense Cause its the music, its blues, its jazz, its acoustics Soul, rock and roll the hip hop we be producing yea It's the gear, it's the flare, it's the stare Nowadays they'll shot you where they used to shoot the fair Remember the lost soldiers, pour a beer, shoot the air We got our own elected officials, no matter who the mayor I know you know what I'm talking about From New York to the South, take off your shoes when you walk in the house (Hook) (Verse 3: Talib Kweli) Yo I grew up where they're playing skele in the parking lot And sell paintings of Aaliyah, BIG and Pac up in the barbershop Buildings too big so you don't really see the stars a lot But rapping, drinking, and going to prison you see them bars a lot I feel the spirit in the dark and hear it in my heart And always keep my ears to the block till I dearly depart Hip hop is really the art We have to express the part of ourselves that make us want to martyr ourselves It ain't harder to tell when somebody stick you up and put the hammer to you They want them dead presidents like Stickman and Mutulu With a gun to your jaw, these kids don't run anymore Kicks is a hundred or more (Verse 4: Common) A man in front of the store, begging for money and mercy I told him say a prayer under his breath, he cursed me n***az is thirsty, I heard it's a drought Up early, serving from their grandmother's house Sometime the ghetto feels desolate, yo the eyes of the hood yo is desperate Effected by the deficit, times and lessons get hard Either get by or get god, but but you try to get by It's like the block keep blocking You try to make moves, its like the car just keep stopping We shorties in the court, need cochran yea I tell them why the weed seeds popping, in the game you need options No time for feet watching, me and kwe keep rocking for the ghetto Hook times 2