Lyrics Ghetto Show - Common , Talib Kweli , Anthony Hamilton
Ghetto
to
ghetto,
backyard
to
yard
We
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
Ghetto
to
ghetto,
backyard
to
yard
We
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
Whatever
in
your
heart
is
where
you
want
to
be
My
hood
is
the
ghetto
Even
when
you
look
Its
never
what
you
see
My
hood
is
the
ghetto
I've
been
down
before
up
is
just
a
reach
Cause
my
hood
is
the
ghetto
Catch
a
second
wind
Then
begin
again
My
hood
is
the
ghetto
Black
magic
in
the
hood,
its
tragic
but
understood
Crack
addicts,
crack
windows,
crack
wood
Even
whats
bad
becomes
good,
status
becomes
stood
Upon
the
pedestal
welcome
to
the
ghetto
show
Federal
buildings,
pissy
hallways
filled
with
children
pushing
children
Fiends
lips
peeling,
shit
seems
real
and
What's
real
is
the
estate
of
mind
that
we're
in
The
situation
feels
great
My
man
peels
weight,
so
he
can
fill
plates
You
might
get
love
but
you
still
feel
hate
Through
and
chain
plates,
we
communicate
Chicago
to
brooklyn
nigga
real
ones
do
relate
If
lyrics
sold
then
truth
be
told
I'll
probably
be
just
as
rich
and
famous
as
jay-z
Truthfully
I
wanna
rhyme
like
common
sense
Next
best
thing
I
do
a
record
with
common
sense
Cause
its
the
music,
its
blues,
its
jazz,
its
acoustics
Soul,
rock
and
roll
the
hip
hop
we
be
producing
yea
It's
the
gear,
it's
the
flare,
it's
the
stare
Nowadays
they'll
shot
you
where
they
used
to
shoot
the
fair
Remember
the
lost
soldiers,
pour
a
beer,
shoot
the
air
We
got
our
own
elected
officials,
no
matter
who
the
mayor
I
know
you
know
what
I'm
talking
about
From
New
York
to
the
South,
take
off
your
shoes
when
you
walk
in
the
House
Yo
I
grew
up
where
they're
playing
skele
in
the
parking
lot
And
sell
paintings
of
Aaliyah,
BIG
and
Pac
up
in
the
barbershop
Buildings
too
big
so
you
don't
really
see
the
stars
a
lot
But
rapping,
drinking,
and
going
to
prison
you
see
them
bars
a
lot
I
feel
the
spirit
in
the
dark
and
hear
it
in
my
heart
And
always
keep
my
ears
to
the
block
till
I
dearly
depart
Hip
hop
is
really
the
art
We
have
to
express
the
part
of
ourselves
that
make
us
want
to
martyr
Ourselves
It
ain't
harder
to
tell
when
somebody
stick
you
up
and
put
the
hammer
To
you
They
want
them
dead
presidents
like
Stickman
and
Mutulu
With
a
gun
to
your
jaw,
these
kids
don't
run
anymore
Kicks
is
a
hundred
or
more
A
man
in
front
of
the
store,
begging
for
money
and
mercy
I
told
him
say
a
prayer
under
his
breath,
he
cursed
me
Niggaz
is
thirsty,
I
heard
it's
a
drought
Up
early,
serving
from
their
grandmother's
house
Sometime
the
ghetto
feels
desolate,
yo
the
eyes
of
the
hood
yo
is
Desperate
Effected
by
the
deficit,
times
and
lessons
get
hard
Either
get
by
or
get
god,
but
but
you
try
to
get
by
It's
like
the
block
keep
blocking
You
try
to
make
moves,
its
like
the
car
just
keep
stopping
We
shorties
in
the
court,
need
cochran
yea
I
tell
them
why
the
weed
seeds
popping,
in
the
game
you
need
options
No
time
for
feet
watching,
me
and
kwe
keep
rocking
for
the
ghetto
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