Paroles: Igo (hella Hoes) Ruemix

[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

Kill a California nigga, 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 bitches

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

Death 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 niggas, where all of my niggas

And all of my niggas 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 niggas know

Eastwood in this motherfucker, 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 drugs

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 niggas 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: Glasses 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: Glasses 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 niggas off, like I'm hella Rick Ross

Scream "New West" had everybody pounding

Like I give a fuck, 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 niggas 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 "Fuck The Police!"

Where tinies pick you up and drop you off down the street

And say I'm too street and pay bitches 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]

Pass 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 niggas not gon front at me

I've been trying to be telling you niggas that be killing 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 fuck 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

Niggas 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 shit 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 niggas, 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 classy, no jewels 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 fucked 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 nigga'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 ass rapper

Half these wack rappers is some good ass actors

Seen them on TV, and be like that's gangsta

But in real life, they ain't shit - they can't spit

  Poster par  |  il y a 4 ans  |  Artiste : Kennedy