(feat. Common, Anthony Hamilton)



[Intro: Talib Kweli]

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, shit 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 nigga 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

Niggaz 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]