 (Intro: Talib Kweli)
Ghetto to ghetto, backyard to yard
We tear it up y'all, bless the mic with
the gods (come on)
Precious metals round our necks and
arms (yea)
We tear it up y'all, bless the mic with
the gods
Ghetto to ghetto, backyard to yard
We tear it up y'all, bless the mic with
the gods (come on)
Precious metals round our necks and
arms (yea)
We tear it up y'all, bless the mic with
the gods
(Hook: Anthony Hamilton)
Whatever in your heart is where you
want to be
My hood is the ghetto
Even when you look
Its never what you see
My hood is the ghetto
I've been down before up is just a
reach
Cause my hood is the ghetto
Catch a second wind
Then begin again
My hood is the ghetto
(Verse 1: Common)
Black magic in the hood, its tragic but
understood
Crack addicts, crack windows, crack
wood
Even whats bad becomes good,
status becomes stood
Upon the pedestal welcome to the
ghetto show
Federal buildings, pissy hallways filled
with children pushing children
Fiends lips peeling, shit seems real
and
What's real is the estate of mind that
we're in
The situation feels great
My man peels weight, so he can fill
plates
You might get love but you still feel
hate
Through and chain plates, we
communicate
Chicago to brooklyn nigga real ones
do relate
(Verse 2: Talib Kweli)
If lyrics sold then truth be told
I'll probably be just as rich and famous
as jay-z
Truthfully I wanna rhyme like common
sense
Next best thing I do a record with
common sense
Cause its the music, its blues, its jazz,
its acoustics
Soul, rock and roll the hip hop we be
producing yea
It's the gear, it's the flare, it's the stare
Nowadays they'll shot you where they
used to shoot the fair
Remember the lost soldiers, pour a
beer, shoot the air
We got our own elected officials, no
matter who the mayor
I know you know what I'm talking
about
From New York to the South, take off
your shoes when you walk in the
house
(Hook)
(Verse 3: Talib Kweli)
Yo
I grew up where they're playing skele
in the parking lot
And sell paintings of Aaliyah, BIG and
Pac up in the barbershop
Buildings too big so you don't really
see the stars a lot
But rapping, drinking, and going to
prison you see them bars a lot
I feel the spirit in the dark and hear it
in my heart
And always keep my ears to the
block till I dearly depart
Hip hop is really the art
We have to express the part of
ourselves that make us want to martyr
ourselves
It ain't harder to tell when somebody
stick you up and put the hammer to
you
They want them dead presidents like
Stickman and Mutulu
With a gun to your jaw, these kids
don't run anymore
Kicks is a hundred or more
(Verse 4: Common)
A man in front of the store, begging
for money and mercy
I told him say a prayer under his
breath, he cursed me
Niggaz is thirsty, I heard it's a drought
Up early, serving from their
grandmother's house
Sometime the ghetto feels desolate,
yo the eyes of the hood yo is
desperate
Effected by the deficit, times and
lessons get hard
Either get by or get god, but but you
try to get by
It's like the block keep blocking
You try to make moves, its like the
car just keep stopping
We shorties in the court, need
cochran yea
I tell them why the weed seeds
popping, in the game you need
options
No time for feet watching, me and
kwe keep rocking for the ghetto
Hook times 2
|
Switch to English 
