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Verse 1:
Ghetto remain violent while the killers remain silent
strapped with 45's and ain't smiling
And I'm driving to a place they're all warrin'
the lake we build houses but its the hood we call home
In the ghetto the only place a motherfker will keep it real
we focused on the dollar bill, still
The outsiders tend to disrespect the place
where do thier struggling at with a straight face
Surviving, under conditions demons died in
you can run it but can't hide it so step aside
Its the nigg* that makes music for the streets
cause I love this motherfker like p*ssy with no sheets,
cause its deep
Some make it out the neighborhood and won't surface
they let the money make them nervous, what's the purpose?
A motherfker sitting on fat
who den' came up in the hood but he can't come back
fk that, I remain in the street game frame
on a mission to maintian me and take aim
In position to let my opposition know my life
is off in these streets I keep it real but what's right?
Surviving, sitting on a key doing business on a beeper
I'm sinking in this motherfker deeper
Fear the reaper that no man born or woman harm me
fk being in your army; though I'm a killer
Enter the ghetto so that you can see
what I mean when I say I love this cause it love me
Let it be, stop looking at this motherfker strange
and talking 'bout a motherfka change
This is for my thug
(chorus x6)
This is for my homies and my thug (uuuuugh)
verse 2
'Face, imagine us working at McDonald's
Or me and you selling fking tapes in the Bahamas
Gold slug, a car full of thug
twenty inch wheels candy paint so we drug dealers
No Limit soldiers to the fullest
see I was raised on some red beans the size of some bullets, huh
Real ghetto can't be stopped
got me mixing up dope with little J down at Rap-A-Lot
My phone tapped the feds on my tail
got me paying luxury taxes on everything I build
True to the ghetto that's my life
you see that house on the lake its for the kids and the wife
You can test me if you wanna
cause I be dumping off from New Orleans to California
Rowdy like a hurricane (uuuuuugh)
independant, black owned got them hooked on this cocaine
You used to seein CEO's in a suit and ties
but we young in tennis shoes and down
Executive street millionaires
gonna be bout it bout till we gray in the wheel chair
Chorus x6
Verse 3:
What do you get from boosting?
coming out from california here to represent them in
Houston
And now 2Pac keep this s**t popping
and all my across the bay know L.A. keep the s**t hot
I keep my glock inside my pants , dont give a chance
to put me inside a casket you dirty b*stards
Until the day I die you catch a nigg* high off weed the police can't
find me
My s**t will drop and I'll sell five million
while all the enter the game get caught up in drug dealing
How can I fall? how can I ball, how can I catch my enemies and murder
them all?
My words are flames burnin' inside thier brain
can't hang with me, and I ain't changed, uh
Scarface got me on this s**t
we laced hittin' motherfkas in thier body and face, uh
Going quicker, liquor maybe i'll jack me a nigg*
don't wanna see me world wide known figure
M.O.B. Henneessy keep me weeded
Keyed don't wanna see me when i got weed in my system
Catch another victim, capture bodies
bring a shottie to the fking party, yeah
I party all night
I do this s**t cause its wrong but we ball right
Until these hear my song we do it long ways
'till these girls understand nigg* my song pay; cause I'm the man
Now these is my homeboys, we outlaws till the day we die
keep this s**t rough and raw my 45
Make sure that I survive to another day
to bust rhymes which from I get paid
Now that's the end of my freestyle but it was rich with game
Rewind the s**t and you can hear it playing, westside
chorus x8