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Produced by ID Labs |
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Being here in America doesn't make you an American |
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Being born here in America doesn't make you an American |
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I see America through the eyes of the victim |
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I don't see any American dream, I see an American nightmare |
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Power to the people |
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We got more crack in the ghetto than they could grow in Columbia |
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Put this shit right in front of ya, this is America! |
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We got more guns in the hood than soldiers out on the line |
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See hustlers out on they grind, how you get rich in America |
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And we all just tryin' to make it, all around the world |
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For those who never mistake it, ain't no place like America |
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And your pride get hard to swallow when everything controlled |
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By that all mighty dollar, we don't fear God in America |
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Okay the sun rise from the east, the west marked by the beast |
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The crime rate in my city still risin' like yeast |
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My young homie said, "Fuck school" and hit the block |
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I try to tell him, "Be thankful for the shit you got" |
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Cause ain't nobody gon' do nothin' for you |
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They gave the ghetto dope to hang ourselves then kick the bucket for you |
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Still throwin' rocks at the pen, full of dope spot |
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My homie just got out and locked up again |
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Cause ain't no discipline (Not at all) |
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Speakin' frankly, it's all about the Benjamins |
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More chiefs than Indians |
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That's why I just be playin' my part (my part) |
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Keep doin' my thing thing |
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My phone like a telethon, it always go ring ring |
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My hands cash registered, they always go ching ching |
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Call me Joe Blow, cause I'm smokin' that mean green |
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Gotta stay high to deal with all these characters |
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Cash rules everything all over America |
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Na nigga, we tryin' to ball nigga |
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Bullets ejecting enter give him a hot winter |
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From a nobody nigga to top-tener |
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To bitches givin' head just hopin' that I remember |
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Obama lied, ain't see shit changed |
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The cocaine came, with no shame, we does our thing |
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My gang go bang, his blog be tHe same |
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Her block be the same |
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I just migHt get rid of tHat range and cop me a plane |
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I'm ghetto fabulous, not corporate but nigga rich |
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Jesus Christ can't believe tHis sHit |
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The pistol on me make me feel grave |
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Ya man murked could make you feel hate |
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A murder squad get the ? |
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God couldn't help me with the bills I pay |
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So I'm stealin' the collection plate |
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Prayed to him, guess he answered late |
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On my knees just tired of tryin' to get His attention |
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So fuck it, I'm back to bitchin' |
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Everybody on welfare,nobody got healthcare |
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War goin' on right here, the president well aware |
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Come through your city, but won't visit the ghetto there |
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We in our own world from California to Delaware |
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The black market, yeah the hood be arrangin' |
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How the prices be inflatin' all the goods we exchangin' |
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To be doctor was my earlier plan |
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Til experience let me know I had the world in my hand |
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Now I got so many girls in my pants |
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Don't know if they reachin' for me, or the Jacksons and grams |
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I see my fans, they all happen to ask |
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Young Bo, when you gon' put the game back in the trance? |
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I'm like, "I'm on it, I'm on it" |
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You see how I be doin' it |
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I feel it then I record it, sound the same when I'm performing |
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To tell the truth, the crack game was never boring |
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Bet they'll be the best memories we talk about tourin' |