[Lupe talking]

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 story