My mama told me:'Baby boy  you know you gotta be strong
 And even though they lead you wrong  stay on the right track
 Cause it ain't no get right without some get back.'
 Yeah  I heard that  but back then I didn't feel it
 Cause I was rollin' do or die  tryna see me a ticket  just kickin'
 G block  I said I'll never leave
 Even when the rollers chase me down til I can't breathe
 Nigga freeze, who me? Oh, never that!
 I'm hittin' fence after fence until I'm chillin' at my doormat
 Like a mack I had to get away
 Cause I'm a smooth operator, ask Shanda
 But the rollers in the V is so shady
 If they could, they would plan something on me
 But really, them ain't the fools I gotta worry 'bout
 Cause white folks goin' loced in the white house
 And I doubt a republican or democrate
 Gives a fuck about us young inner city blacks
 It's a trap, Uncle Sam keeps cursing me
 Rather have me in the pen than the university
 Yeah, it's a shame but mane, that's how it is
 So ya better peep game and try to lace ya kids
 Cause it ain't no tellin' what's soon to come
 When the punk president might drop the bomb
 Got me all stressed out with my brain on numb
 My little cousin asking me where dope come from

 Chorus:
 They try to tell us in the verses and the scriptures
 But I guess the real message must have missed us
 In '96 all my brothers and my sisters
 Is on a mission, we're trippin' livin' senseless
 Tell me, will I see the sun in days to come
 Will blacks be the victors instead of victims
 Or will my people keep killing over fuckin' crumbs
 Pushin' dope just to reach ghetto stardom

 If you ask Mac Mall who I'm voting for
 I say:'Farrakhan' as I'm hittin' the bomb
 I .. to the swisher or the dohja spliff
 Get elevated to another as I reminisce
 About fresh candy paint and peanut butter tops
 Young hustlers havin' paper, livin' top notch
 And then the D-game straight decline
 And all you Sawyer turf niggas makin' headlines
 10 o'clock news or America's most
 Unsolved mysteries, you better soak some dope
 Then the judge starts droppin' the injuries
 On all the gangstas, playahs, macks and G's
 And you know you wont see 'em til about 2 thou'
 Cause ya boy got washed with a faulty assed trial
 But at least one day he gone be free
 Some soldiers ain't never gonna see the streets
 That's why I keep servin' game over my beats
 So all my people, in and out, can straight feel me

 Chorus

 There is nowhere for me to run
 Nowhere for me to hide from reality
 But I don't wanna be a casualty
 Of another tryna smother a brother just cause my salary
 And dog, I tell ya that these times' so sick
 That my sister's smoking dohja, 8 months pregnant
 My brother bubble on the grind and he's way legit
 Working on his third strike and he still won't quit
 But I can't tell him nuttin' bout a salary job
 So in order to get tha paper the boy gotta mob or sob
 All will fall to the waistside
 While the rollers overlook they wanna take lifes
 Youngstas they gettin' raised off the T.V.
 Got white kids around the country wanna be me
 And the way they point the finger ain't even shob
 Television replace religion, now the gangsta's god
 And old folks wonder why we so crazy
 90 knuckleheads and 70 high babies
 And can't nobody tell me that I'm wrong
 Uncle Sam finding ways to fit computer chips in my dome
 So I should ask before you slip
 See it's higher than the ultimate trip

 Chorus

 You know, dedicated to DJ Cee, S-Double the Mac
 Reach Ghetto Stardom