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Текст (слова) песни: Freeway f Rell - Victim of the Ghetto

Ch
Down in my area, chk a chk uh.. real shit nigga uh
It`s the ROC
Yeah... Free... yea uh feel me.. Pa pause
Yo.. yo

[Verse 1: Freeway]
I was born in west but migrated to north
Remember cold nights grindin` AK and a toss
Four door for the stick up boys if they want war
Fiends comin` all night all I heard was four more
Rocks in the cap
When it was jumpin` me and Rell hit dances
You could pick me out the crowd rockin` the cap
But things change
Cause my man Rell fightin` a body
On state row where it`s so cold
Rockin` his blues
I roll with the ROC
Still trynna rock at a show
Shit aint like 98` niggaz pockets is low
Which way do I go?
Indictments blew over
Man whipped a few shoulders
Shovel nick boulders gettin` it slow
Me, I`m in the studio switchin` the flow
Changin` the styles
My son and daughter need pampers
Cause they just shittin` them up
And changin` the size
My man Just quipped the Jags
See the change in his eyes

[Chorus: Freeway - 2X]; followed by [Rell]
And I eat, sleep, buy, sell - drugs
Cause I`m just another victim of the ghetto
When I rob, steal, lie to get money, bust slugs (shots)
Cause I`m just another product of the ghetto

[Rell] This is how it goes down in these ghetto streets
[Rell] This is how it goes down in my neighborhood
[Rell] This is how it goes down in these ghetto streets
[Rell] This is how it goes down in my area

[Verse 2: Freeway]
My man blingin` platinum wheel, platinum gat
Took a trip down south came back with platinum caps
I`m still trynna write platinum raps
But made a slight change from verse one
Started jugglin` packs
It`s like I`m travelin` backwards
Rewindin` the time
Putting four on nine
Must be outta my mind
(uh) nine, get it outta my palm
Just grab four and a half get it outta my trunk
Free we need you at the studio
Out to lunch - out on the block
These niggaz just pulled out on my man
And the only rock I worry bout is right on my face
We bout to go shake, rattle his block (shots) with no plans
Shots fired, cops came
But I`m a grown man
I stick around till my clip is empty
Cops threw me on the ground
When my clip got empty (shots)
Now bars is all I see a thug is all I`ll ever be

[Chorus]

[Verse 3: Freeway]
I got, 11 in I was facin` a dub, got nine left
My click show love they write back
My cousin M`s son, little Di he`s so grown
Said he hold chrome, run blocks, and write raps
Wrote him right back
Told him I control the bones
Try to play the phone
We could rhyme and hold wax
Leave that drug shit alone
Don`t forget you grown
It`ll put you places where your mind can`t get you back from
Little nigga aint write me back since
Still supply the jail
L.Pridgon you got mail
It`s probably all the letters you wrote him
What you mean?
All the fucked up shit you told him
This shit from my cousin Emily I`m quotin` (uh huh)
Right out her letter
Little Di, got popped in the head trynna steal a nigga leather
That`s what the cops said but the streets could tell you better

[Chorus]

 

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