Straight From Da Ghetto - Lost Boyz

The rap skills they flow just like water from a faucet

I been here from Queens, thought I lost it

Well I’ve been waiting, hibernating

It’s mad peoples eyeing on the streets, so with the streets I’m debating, see

The government is one some ill skit

That’s why my peoples sling rocks, they bust shots, either kill, kid

So yo, we need to face the fact, black

Once a fellow blows from the ghetto, see there’s no turning back

My mom dukes needs she need some loot, I can’t seed it

That’s why I do my thing here, so I can be there

I’m on this lane, and I’m talking from the slum

Cuz the Cheeks is from the slum and from the slum is here I come

Aiyo, I thought I’d give it to ya

Peoples try to hold the fam back because they felt we couldn’t do it

Aiyo, I live out in the gutter

Now you see how long it takes for Cheeks to make butter

Coming straight from the ghetto

Aiyo, I come from the ghetto, I live for the ghetto

I even cry for the ghetto

Aiyo, I might have a verse for the ghetto

That means I might have to die for the ghetto

The rough times will remain in my brain

I make it hard to maintain, tearing clowns out the frame

I been away for mad peoples thought I fell

But I just came back from my visit in hell

I seen the demon and we chatted, about this and that

And other foul things that never mattered

He said it’s time to get ya props

But still watch ya back from jealous fellas and them crooked type cops

So yo I did what he got it, police never reported

The day they found my little man Shawn snorted

Some kids slit his throat for a little coke

But we caught the suspect, 911 is a joke

But listen that’s how it goes on the street, man

You can’t be beat, us real fellas gotta eat

With selling drugs, busting shots, how local thugs

Money we divided, now they works under works from the ghetto

I represent for the borough of Queens

Getting out of state money, hang on Uptown scenes

I hit the Bronx just to boogie with my aunts

Then I burst out to Brooklyn, haven’t been there in months

I see the crews, smoking blunts, drinking bew

It’ll be for my cousin Lou, I’m out about two

Right now I push a napsack, with some Timbs

But I’m soon to push a black Ac' with deep dish rims

Yo, Big Dex hits me off with the fat beats

Rest in Peace to Tyrone from the back streets

Our God, won’t press in fiend time

My nigga named Chris and big Craig why they die?

Aiyo, I can’t forget the shorty, her name was Ebony

She got smoked in 40 and it made mad noise

But listen that’s how it goes

When niggas fight to make room

For elbows, when running the ghetto