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Mr.Serv-On
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Tryin' To Make It Out Da Ghetto
Lyricist:Craig Lawson, P. Miller, E. Smith
I'm visualizing studios with forty-eight tracks Ghettos and hoods and economies and cutbacks Raise your guns up high if your fearing debt Fuck the police, they smoke them like a cigarette
Must have been a fucking organ donor Because they left him in the projects to die with his eyes open Oh god, don't take my only dog But them niggas drove up like a fucking hog
Some chase, a nigga ran him through the hood Eighteen shots left my homie in some pine wood Another end in dope game battle with a gat Rat-a-tat-tat, nigga, who gonna be next?
So smile for my homie, Rando To many niggas out here get caught up in scandals I'm living like a rat trying to get some cheese But I'm getting on my knees, 'cause God don't let it be me next
Trying to make it out this ghetto, uhh Trying to make it out this ghetto, uhh Trying to make it out this ghetto, uhh Trying to make it out this ghetto, uhh
Twenty-four seconds till your last smile Bullets to your face, them niggas you grew with And bang with saw you take your last fucking mile I'm hugging your only child with your strap by my side
Murder in my eyes, no time to cry, somebody gots to die The night you left I said my prayers for the last time God forgive me, before I leave this world I'm taking somebody with me These niggas don't give a fuck about me or you That's why I snatch my fucking shirt off and show you that I'm TRU Find more lyrics at ※ Mojim.com
You told me be a soldier to the end, I can't pretend In my sleep I see my cousins eyes, why he have to die? Six G's by his side now we gotta ride I hope I make it out this ghetto to that other side
Trying to make it out this ghetto, uhh Trying to make it out this ghetto, uhh Trying to make it out this ghetto, uhh Trying to make it out this ghetto, uhh
All I can say is why two times at night I cry We live and die, maybe it was stress I was driven by I done seen some funerals in my short stay On planet Earth, we live on this white chalkway
This life is streets feening, the type of shit you witness on CNN Me and my niggas seen it at first hand And even worse man it's niggas I know That this life was beautiful place and all my soldiers trying to go
But I'm too young, you gotta be at least twenty-one I know some youngsters, who creeping now it must have been fun 'Cause none of them returned, forever fly or forever burned Fools concerned with the way we learn in these streets
Lord forgive us, the blood flows like the Mississippi River That homicide was what took him with us I'm on the corner strapped up waiting for the devil And if I die, I still make it out the ghetto
Trying to make it out this ghetto, uhh Trying to make it out this ghetto, uhh Trying to make it out this ghetto, uhh
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