Talib Kweli - Ghetto Show (feat. Common & Anthony Hamilton) Lyrics
Artist: Talib Kweli f/ Common, Anthony HamiltonAlbum:The Beautiful StruggleSong: Ghetto Show(Intro: Talib Kweli)Ghetto to ghetto, backyard to yardWe 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 godsGhetto to ghetto, backyard to yardWe 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 beMy hood is the ghettoEven when you lookIts never what you seeMy hood is the ghettoI've been down before up is just a reachCause my hood is the ghettoCatch a second windThen begin againMy hood is the ghetto(Verse 1: Common)Black magic in the hood, its tragic but understoodCrack addicts,crack windows, crack woodEven whats bad becomes good, status becomes stoodUpon the pedestal welcome to the ghetto showFederal buildings, pissy hallways filled with children pushing childrenFiends lips peeling, shit seems real andWhat's real is the estate of mind that we're inThe situation feels greatMy man peels weight, so he can fill platesYou might get love but you still feel hateThrough and chain plates, we communicateChicago to brooklyn nigga real ones do relate(Verse 2: Talib Kweli)If lyrics sold then truth be toldI'll probably be just as rich and famous as jay-zTruthfully I wanna rhyme like common senseNext best thing I do a record with common senseCause its the music, its blues, its jazz, its acousticsSoul, rock and roll the hip hop we be producing yeaIt's the gear, it's the flare, it's the stareNowadays they'll shot you where they used to shoot the fairRemember the lost soldiers, pour a beer, shoot the airWe got our own elected officials, no matter who the mayorI know you know what I'm talking aboutFrom New York to the South, take off your shoes when you walk in the house(Hook)(Verse 3: Talib Kweli)YoI grew up where they're playing skele in the parking lotAnd sell paintings of Aaliyah, BIG and Pac up in the barbershopBuildings too big so you don't really see the stars a lotBut rapping, drinking, and going to prison you see them bars a lotI feel the spirit in the dark and hear it in my heartAnd always keep my ears to the block till I dearly departHip hop is really the artWe have to express the part of ourselves that make us want to martyr ourselvesIt ain't harder to tell when somebody stick you up and put the hammer to youThey want them dead presidents like Stickman and MutuluWith a gun to your jaw, these kids don't run anymoreKicks is a hundred or more(Verse 4: Common)A man in front of the store, begging for money and mercyI told him say a prayer under his breath, he cursed meNiggaz is thirsty, I heard it's a droughtUp early, serving from their grandmother's houseSometime the ghetto feels desolate, yo the eyes of the hood yo is desperateEffected by the deficit, times and lessons get hardEither get by or get god, but but you try to get byIt's like the block keep blockingYou try to make moves, its like the car just keep stoppingWe shorties in the court, need cochran yeaI tell them why the weed seeds popping, in the game you need optionsNo time for feet watching, me and kwe keep rocking for the ghettoHook times 2
