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Uh, hit them with a little ghetto gospel. |
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Those who wish to follow me. (my Ghetto gospel) |
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I welcome with my hands. |
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And the red sun sinks to last into the hills of gold. |
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And peace to this young warrior, |
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Without the sound of guns. |
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If I could recollect before my hood days. |
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I sit and reminisce, thinking and bliss on the good days. |
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I stop and stare at the younger, my heart goes to m. |
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They tested, it was stressed that they under. |
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And nowadays, things changed. |
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Everyone ashamed to the youth, cuz the truth looks strange. |
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And for me it reversed, we left them a world that cursed, and it hurts. |
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Cause any day theyl push the button. |
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And all commend, like Malcom X and Bobby Hunton, died for nothin? |
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Don make me get teary, the world looks dreary. |
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When you wipe your eyes, seeing clearly. |
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There no need for you to fear me. If you take your time to hear me, |
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maybe you can learn to cheer me. It ain about black or white, |
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cuz wee human. I hope we see the light before it ruined. |
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My ghetto gospel. |
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Those who wish to follow me. (Ghetto gospel) |
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I welcome with my hands. |
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And the red sun sinks to last into the hills of gold. |
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And peace to this young warrior, |
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Without the sound of guns. |
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Tell me do you see that old lady, ain it sad. |
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Living out of bags, plus she glad for the little things she has. |
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And over there there a lady, crack got her crazy. |
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Guess she giving birth to a baby. |
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I don trip and let m fade me, |
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? wee droppin?to another form of slavery. |
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Even now I keep discouraged. Wonder if they take it all back, |
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Will I still keep the courage? I refuse to be a role model. |
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I set goals, take control, drink out my own bottles. |
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I made mistakes, but learned from every one. |
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And when it said and done. I bet this brother be a better one. |
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If I upset, you don stress. Never forget that God hasn finished with me yet. |
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I feel his hand on my brain. When I write rhymes, |
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I go blind, and let the lord do his thing. But am I less holy? |
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Cuz I choose to puff a blunt and drink a beer with my homeyz. |
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Before we find world peace. We gotta find peace in the war on the streets. |
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My ghetto gospel. |
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Those who wish to follow me. (Ghetto gospel) |
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I welcome with my hands. |
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And the red sun sinks at last into the hills of gold. |
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And peace to this young warrior, |
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Without the sound of guns. |
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Lord can you hear me speak. |