T-Rock (Mr. Washington, Young David en Prince of the Park)
T-Rock (Mr. Washington, Young David en Prince of the Park) - Livin' In The Ghetto songtekst
Je score:
[Verse 1] We went from kings and queens, to prostitutes and murderers The angels with the Book of Life never even heard of us How can we regenerate our salvation? Some niggaz worshippin' the weed we blazin', my cheddar cheese chasin' For money they live as sacrificial lambs A life diminished over grams and the government don't give a damn So I keep a gat on my waistline to blast snitches Empty the clip and don't waste time for cash riches A robbery gone sour we split his wig And the victim was a family man with six kids It's a dirty game, a twisted lottery in poverty A firearm is the only sense of technology It's surely a shame for crumbs we blood spill But by law of God under no circumstance shall niggaz kill Yet it's still with my comrades, I'mma let my gun blast Breakin' for cash clutchin' fast to my crumb stash [Chorus] I'm livin' in the ghetto, it's so hard livin in the ghetto Livin' in the ghetto, livin' in the ghetto Livin' in the ghetto is hard Livin' in the ghetto's hard, hard, so hard [Verse 2] If I abandon my bad habits and don't live as a mad savage I'd live abundantly out-running my early casket Times are tragic on the front lines The devil knows our pressure points as he connects us with his punch lines Rely on my roots of Christ I'm a troop Counteractin' the spirit of a lie with the truth The cause is probable, to a knowledge I'm unstoppable In any name of Christ nigga nothin' is impossible Father your presence is required in the line of fire Somewhat as an alcoholic slippin' off the typewriter Wishin' to get rid of his drinkin' desire But when times get hard it makes him feel fifty pounds lighter And who am I if I be judgemental? When I engage in D.U.I. or weed and alcoholic influential It ain't that simple, drugs got us crooked and demental Headed straight to hell puttin' guns to our own temple [Chorus] [Verse 3] I got a mind with no screws, the grind is the tool to make it I get on the move and take it, stick to the basics We drunken and mentally faded, anticipated They comin' up with currency in presidential faces The streets have got me so hot from clockin' the not, entrapment The corpse will get shot, we scorchin' the block, what happened? Shit nobody knows a dead body floats in water Then shrivel up and decompose a week after the slaughter It's an everyday thing the game is deranged and twisted But back to the brain and calm the untamed,?I'm lifted? It's keepin' me sane cause fakers remain to kick it A president should make them a statistic, yeah them bitches But instead I just pray and puff on the hay and meditate Cherish the day and never astray I'll escalate Small time niggaz be tryin to brawl but they feather weight Then I'm forced to kill their ass leave 'em in the Everglades [Chorus]