Mr. Serv-On - Tryin' to Make It Out da Ghetto lyrics

rate me

[Master P]

I'm visualizing studios with forty-eight tracks

Ghettos and hoods and economies and cutbacks

Riase your guns up high if your fearing debt

Fuck the police, they smoke them like a cigarette

Must have been a fucking organ donor

Because they left him in the projects to die with his eyes open

Oh god, don't take my only dog

But them niggas drove up like a fucking hog

Some chase, a nigga ran him through the hood

Eighteen shots left my homie in some pine wood

Another end in dope game battle with a gat

Rat-a-tat-tat nigga who gonna be next?

So smile for my homie, Rando

To many niggas out here get caught up in scandals

I'm living like a rat trying to get some cheese

But I'm getting on my knees cause god don't let it be me next

[Chorus]

Tryin to make it out this ghetto, uhhhhhhhhhh (4X)

[Mr. Serv-On]

Twenty-four seconds till your last smile

Bullets to your face

Them niggas you grew with, and bang with saw you take your last fucking mile

I'm hugging your only child with your strap by my side

Murder in my eyes, no time to cry, somebody gots to die

The night you left I said my prayers for the last time

God forgive me, before I leave this world I'm taking somebody with me

These niggas don't give a fuck about me or you

That's why I snatch my fucking shirt off and show you that I'm TRU

You told me be a soldier to the end, I can't pretend

In my sleep I see my cousins eyes, why he have to die?

Six g's by his side now we gotta ride

I hope I make it out this ghetto to that other side

Chorus 4X

[Mac]

All I can say is why two times at night I cry

We live and die, maybe it was stress I was driven by

I done seen some funerals in my short stay

On planet Earth, we live on this white chalkway

This life is streets feenin, the type of shit you witness on CNN

Me and my niggas seen it at first hand

And even worse man it's niggas I know

That this life was beautiful place and all my soldiers trying to go

But I'm too young, you gotta be at least twenty-one

I know some youngsters, who creppin' now it must have been fun

Cause none of them returned, forever fly, or forever burned

Fools concerned with the way we learn in these streets

Lord forgive us, the blood flows like the Mississippi River

That homocide was what took him with us

I'm on the corner strapped up waiting for the devil

And if I die, I still make it out the ghetto

Chorus 3X