Roots!



Praise for the days when I couldn't get paid

In the fix on the mix in the damn projects

Cracks for the blacks but I couldn't sell that

Even though blacks couldn't get jobs and shit

Hit after hit from the Sugarhill Gang

Hear a Pow Wow, hear a Big Bank Hank

It was strange, I was broke but I still got the record

Even though I was poor and about butt naked

Rats in my front room, roaches in the back

Junkies in the alley running styles for the crack

It was ill on the real, I be still bugging off it

In the ways I will walk it so today I can talk it

It's a shame how the games in the ghetto get played

On the cracks they paid for the tricks they laid

I'm afraid for the youth in this time we're living in

Just about 13 on the scene scrambling

Gambling small-time, apologize nice

I'm about to roll 10 7's for the crap I rolled twice

Rough business, it's a rich mon time

When you ain't got the loot, you resort to the crime

From the cess house, the youth house, the jail house, the Cult house

Where I perfected these skills I be doggin

Love to teach the facts but the brothers in the back

Can't see what I'm saying cause the blunt smoke is foggin

Still I proceed with degrees of the wisdom

Cause this shit's thick, it kicks and I know it

Lickle do you know there's a God and so

Born just like Christ in a damn ghetto



From ghetto to ghetto, from project to project

Bookbag of lessons but I ain't have dough yet

From knowledge to wisdom, from wisdom to see

And understand me if you don't dance, G

It's a god in the house, it's a god in the house

And I'm godding it out, and I'm godding it out

I've come a long way, the strong way, the wrong way, I lived it

The right way, you might say, I got it, I'll give it

But praise for the days when I used to be tramp

And had to freeload of my Earth's food stamps

Til I stopped, paused, start the pop's stores

It was ill on the real, but who's to die for us?

Say that I rock my own community

Ain't a damn thing owned by the you or the me

It's Koreans I be seeing on the neighborhood corners

With the guns and the stores and love the ??? owners

So beg my parton, peace Natasha Harton

See I won't forget, I know for shit's starting

From my way to LA, from JA to UK

I am who I am, I say what I say

I gots no time to love a slave trader

Cause according to the constitution, they'll always hate us

Play this, say this, and say it like I said it

Cause a magazine edit can get your ass beheaded

I'm thorough breaded, black slave dreaded

The shit that y'all doing, I already did it!

But lickle do you know there's a God and so

Born just like Christ in a damn ghetto



Praise for the days when I used to be trife

With a lack of understanding anything about life

So thanks to Malcom, Martin, Wylee Ferartin

Father Allah talk the talk that I'm starting

Peace to Elijah, we can't forget about ya

Teaching us how ta, get up out the

Project complex caves

Another damn rave for the damn ex-slave

My ghetto noise ringing from a project hallway

Don't want to hear my mom say "Blacks have come a long way"

How can she see that when we haven't eaten all day

Haven't had a job since the ending of the slave trade

Then they give us church, attempt to try and ease this

But I check it out, had to learn about Jesus

Told em he was black and they called me a hater

Then he's on the church wall, yeah like a slave trader

Something real funny's going on boy I'll tell ya

Send you up sell ya, free ya try to kill ya

Martin taught me much when he simply tried to love em

Brother all about peace but the devils had to snuff him, but

Lickle do you know there's a God and so

Born just like Christ in a damn ghetto

Lickle do you know there's a God and so

Born just like Christ in a damn ghetto