You know I had to do it, man. It wouldn'ta been right if I didn't. You seen it? You seen the show last night on TV? You seen nigga's rims man? You seen the new Jordans man? You see her ass yo? Yeah, yeah, that's crazy.
[Singing] Seein' with my ghetto eyes I walkeded with my ghetto feet I talkeded with my ghetto speech I'm copasetic, I won't let it bring me down Bring me down...
I say it's enstilled As I peep from beneath the titled brim of my pinwheel Steady mobbin', heavy problems Genocide resynthesize to violence, makes it hard to sympathize Harden, individuals whose feelings is miniscule Soon become criminals if you dark-skinned And you was raised in a project apartment Public Aid made it that your father couldn't stay He had to part then, left with only a mother The family structure suffers He will soon cling to hustlers, as his guardians He still a boy, needs to fill a void, marchin' Up the block up to no good, sellin' in the wrong hood He was taken down by a marksmen At his wake, 8th Grade Graduation picture Last words: Don't let the habitation get ya Pardoned, Lord have mercy on the fallen Amen, feel like I'm hardened Got the harbinger for the coming of the carpenter Til then, I got some big fish to fry like Marlins Part niggas, steady mobbin'
[Chorus] I've got some questions to ask, and I'm waitin' on some answers Like, Why do the good die young? Why ain't there no cure for cancer? Won't let the streets dicatate my glory Cuz it's something out there for me But I'ma flee my territory So I won't end up, just a ghetto story Just a ghetto story, just a ghetto story Just a ghetto story, just a ghetto story
And I try to see past it Through the down-roll window on the driver side of my Caprice Classic Steady mobbin', corner store traffic i.e. dope fiends, hookers and teens with alcohol IVs I see, plastic, cups is a nickel, 50 cent for Dutch Masters My big brother's Pelle Pel' lingers of a fargone weed smoke Lookin' for greener pastures, pasturized 2% for $2.19 You can get 2 quarts, there's also a sale on Newports A seperate line for Lotto, bumpy face, add a model Huggin' a bottle, salt and sour Jays, and blueberry Hugs Shorties consider a meal, been my feel for it Sweatin' for a pair of Air Jordans they would steal for And a gold chain 4 fiends would knife, wild and kill yours There's nothing too promising on our billboards Drink Tanqueray, eat KFC, come abort your child Buy Nikes, which makes it highly unlikely that we gon' fight, G Steady mobbin'
[Chorus] I've got some questions to ask, and I'm waitin' on some answers Like, Why do the good die young? Why ain't there no cure for cancer? Won't let the streets dicatate my glory Cuz it's something out there for me But I'ma flee my territory So I won't end up, just a ghetto story Just a ghetto story, just a ghetto story Just a ghetto story, just a ghetto story
And I'm still on As I stroll down the same street so many like me once before, were killed on Steady mobbin', thinkin' bout the Black Panthers And the babies that were born in the late '80s That now have babies that lack Pampers No Kwaanzas and they lack Santas And the father who thinks shoe-shopping is the answer Skipped out on parenthood classes so she don't know how to handle her And never learned from her grandmother One day got hot, couldn't take it, dropped her in a vacant lot Album of Life, now condensed into a sampler See the shapes these little girls is gettin'? Somethin' say the steroids in the chicken is the cause of the thickening in the young women Livid, see some shorties playin' Cops & Robbers, livin' Bittersweet thoughts is what I had for them I can picture colder feelin' Police chasin' after them Catchin' up to, friskin' and askin' them Where the packs at? Who yo' cheif is? Where the straps at? Am I thinking too hard? Or perhaps that's reality In a project mentality, but through it all I hope we learn more than how to be whores and how to move a ball Steady mobbin'
[Chorus] I've got some questions to ask, and I'm waitin' on some answers Like, Why do the good die young? Why ain't there no cure for cancer? Won't let the streets dicatate my glory Cuz it's something out there for me But I'ma flee my territory So I won't end up, just a ghetto story Just a ghetto story, just a ghetto story Just a ghetto story, just a ghetto storyTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
