ELZHI - Growing Up lyrics

rate me

Yeah, this goes out to all the hoods in the D

Glen Street, 7 Mile, Coney Gardens, School Craft

Just thinkin back on how crazy that shit was

Roamin the block, makin somethin out of nothin

This is my story niggaz

Yeah, g-growin up on 12th Street, Rosa Parks

Was a young prodigy who had flows to spark

Surrounded by killers, thieves, pimps, hoes and narcs

Dead bodies in the allies, back roads and parks

My life counted out before I memorized the number chart

In the cold, the block was hot before the summer start

And I was lookin up to Chris Bud and Black Bill

And Curtis for whom I let the yak spill

Heard somebody got knocked but hate chose his path

How the fuck he turned snake like Moses' staff?

Huh? Got to switchin and started snitchin

On everybody in the kitchen, down to the ones' pitchin

You know that go against the code, so they beefin

Where the homeless lookin for something to stick their teeth in

And you could say I was a thief then, stealin out of corner stores

Gettin mines, while ignorin yours

Up in my cousin's tree house, puffin squares

Thinkin about how life ain't easy and nothing's fair

My talent for writtin songs here while hangin with the wrong kids

Who later would live short lives or do long bids

I guess you could say I was saved by hip hop

Young, recitin "+Fuck The Police+, I got my lip popped

Who'd thought I'd rise from the bottom and to the tip top

Rip shop, chillin, while the ceiling on my whip drop

Yo yo, went from hand me down shit to Polo

From Polo to Louie Vuitton, I'm a don

And since my biological left, my mom is gone

All I got is my brother and step father

So I'm a rep farther

Life's in our hands, from there we got to make decisions

Either advance or stay inside the Devil's kitchen

Divided we stand, no one can act up the story

It's up to the man to rise and try to find the glory, glory

Yeah, yeah, yeah, ha

I made it bitch, get the cock and balls

I'm from a block where niggaz go through rock withdrawals

Poverty debts, folks with a lot of regrets

Blowin smoke, goin broke, off of lottery bets

You got fatherless sons

Lookin up to ballers, when they was smaller they got they dollars in ones

Now you see 'em in they old school Impalas with guns

That go "pop! " but rather pop their collars for fun

'Cause it's wild as a mug (mug), somebody's child is a thug

That can't even show they proud with a hug

Though they help around the house movin thousands of drugs (thousands of drugs)

Just as quick as movin crowds with a slug (movin crowds with a slug)

The reverends say that we headed for Hell

With the same literature read or put on a bed of a cell

Police say we'll be dead or in jail

But like July 4th, I bust up like the lead in a shell

From the same place where niggaz get murdered and became trace

And even if you not a player, got to keep your game face

I'm an example for the youth on the city blocks

That want a nice car, rich fur and pretty rocks, don't stop