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Verse One: Snoop Doggy Dogg |
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Wake up, jumped out my bed |
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Hung in a 2 man cell wit my homie Lil 1/2 Dead |
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Murder was the case that they gave me |
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Dear God, I wonder can you save me |
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I'm only 18, so I'm a young buck |
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It's a ride, if I don't scrap, I'm getting stuck |
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But that's the life of a G, I guess |
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Ese's way deep, shanked two in they chest |
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Bests run 'cause brothers is dropping quicker |
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Ugn, too late, damn, down goes another nigga |
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Bouncing off the walls, throwing them dogs |
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Getting a rep as a young hog |
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It ain't nuttin like the street life |
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Betta be strapped wit yo clip, cuz ain't no fist fight |
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So I guess I gots ta handle mine |
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Since I did the crime, I gots ta do my time |
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Chorus: Dat Nigga Daz |
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Lil' ghetto boy |
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Playing in the ghetto streets |
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What'cha gonna do when you grow up |
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And have to face responsibility |
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Dr. Dre |
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Verse Two: Dr. Dre |
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Now, I'm 'trolling the dove, sitting on swoll |
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27 years old, off on parole, stroll |
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I'm back up on my feet wit my mind on the money |
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That I'm making as soon as I touch the street |
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Things done changed but it's alright |
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Remember they used to thump but now they blast, right |
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But it ain't no thing to me |
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'Cause now I'm what they call a loced-assed O.G. |
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The little homies from the hood wit grip |
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Are the ones I get wit 'cause I'm down respect trip |
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Nigga, I'm bigger than you, so what'cha wanna do |
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Didn't know we had a 22 |
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Straight sitting behind his back |
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I'm grab his pockets and then I heard six caps |
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I fell to the ground wit blood on my hands |
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I didn't understand |
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How a nigga so young could bust a cap |
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I use to be the same way back |
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I guess that's what I get (for what) |
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For trying to jack them little homies for they bread |
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Chorus: Dat Nigga Daz |
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Lil' ghetto boy |
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Playing in the ghetto streets |
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And have to face responsibility |
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Verse Three: Snoop Doggy Dogg |
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Something for the real OG's to get wit |
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Some facts, made our made, now you wanna run and play |
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Like every single day, really doe |
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You know me, I'm the smooth macadamien, gaming them for my homie |
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No need to be uncalm if you pack right |
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And learning just enuff to keep your sack right |
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Late nights, I wonder what they getting fo' |
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Early morning on the corners, what they hitting fo' |
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Seven young G's but they serve down |
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In a jeep ride, east side what they swerve now |
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Not thinking about what's really going on |
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Got crept on, stepped on, now they gone |
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I spent 4 years in the county wit nutting but convicts around me |
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But now I'm back at the pound |
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And we expose ways for the youth to survive |
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Some think it's wrong but we tend to think it's right |
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So make all them ends you can make |
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'Cause when you're broke, you break, check it out |
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So ain't no need for your mama to trip |
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'Cause you's a hustling ass youngsta, clocking your grip |
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Chorus: Dat Nigga Daz |
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Lil' ghetto boy |
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Playing in the ghetto streets |
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What'cha gonna do when you grow up |
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And have to face responsibility |
