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    Talib Kweli »

    Talib Kweli Ghetto Show текст песни

    Ghetto Show

    Artist: Talib Kweli f/ Common, Anthony Hamilton
    Album: The Beautiful Struggle
    Song: Ghetto Show

    (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



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