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Sinful - 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 bitcH, I ain't speaking to Hoes (bitcH!)
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:


[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
[Lyrics from: https:/]
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!


[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


[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 cocky, 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


[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


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