In the ghetto, the ghetto, the ghetto... In the ghetto, the ghetto, the ghetto... Da da da dum
Krayzie
(This shit don' blown too long) Niggas pull up deep on the block and start bustin' and while I'm runnin' I'm hopin' I don't get hit in my head when I'm duckin'/ I hit the fence, drop my dope in the process, and stick the cash inside my pocket/ Can't afford to take no big ass losses, man, but what the fuck? This is the second time they done wet us what a revenge and if we don't get 'em back they gonna roll on our ass again/ I say we squash that, nip that in the bud/ Nigga roll up that blunt, before you light it dip it in that stuff/ Sherm as we pull up on the curb, niggas come get your asses in/ And some niggas we finna serve done disrespected the turf/ It ain't nothing worth niggas thinkin' that they can hold ya/ Nigga we souljahs, we done told 'em this but now we gon' show ya/ Load up the ammo/ We makin' examples out these niggas/ Teach 'em lessons, fuckin' with my block, kiss Momma bye bye/ Pop pop pop pop/ I'm sendin' em messages in the deadliest form/ They better be warned about the real thugs, violate the date that you was born and we be prayin' but ain't nobody sayin' shit or givin a fuck about us when niggas roll up on us and bust/ It's up to us to stay alive, nigga fuck tha police/ So nigga we got to ride, and all you niggas gon' feel the heat, feel the heat
-Chorus-
When you're livin' you life (livin' your life) on the streets, shit don't give a fuck/ You don't really care about these niggas and these bitches that's tryin' to get'cha for your paper/ We'll kill 'em (Kill 'em) When you're livin' you life (livin' your life) on the streets, shit, don't give a fuck/ You don't really care about these niggas and these bitches that's tryin' to get'cha for your paper/ We'll kill 'em (Kill 'em) Damn (damn) How come it look like we ain't goin' nowhere, goin' nowhere/ I guess we stuck in this here ghetto (duh duh duh da da) Damn (damn) How come it look like we ain't goin' nowhere, goin' nowhere/ I guess we stuck in this here ghetto (duh duh duh da da)
Bam
I love speed, a reflection of my own G's so 'fear reprecussions/ For dead homies, please/ We ride till we fall, who ridin' it through them all? A kid about that weed, full of greed and won't stall/ For these thangs, thirty years a whole lot of strikes/ And lots of homies died, third strikes a triple life/ Show niggas how to hold they glocks and little rock/ My hoods so hot if I crash I won't stop/ Hoppin' fences, three or four dope convictions/ And who the fuck is trippin? My homies on a mission for those shoes that'll wake on they grave site/ I sacrifice my life, I run the hood at night/ First niggas to mix they colors with they white sax/ And fuck the Feds, we refuse to give these life's back/ Numbers and letters, and plus respect/ Never rat out on your friends and always get up on your set
Available on the Bam album Kalifornia's Most Wanted
