Dr. Dre, Snoop Dogg, Daz Dillinger - Lil' Ghetto Boy lyrics

So, all of you Africans
All of you Africans that know how to
Do things that's working for other people
Y'all need to open your own business
Save your money
Quit paying motherfuckers for jheri curls
Quit paying motherfuckers for perms
Save your money, start your own business
So these little Africans will have
Wa places to work
This is our future right here!
This our future right here! (Right there)
This (The new generation is goin'! The new generation)
Hey, I'ma tell you right now
If If If I have to die today, for this
Little African right here to have a future
I'm a dead motherfucker!
(You right! Respect)

Wake up, jumped out my bed
I'm in a two man cell with my homie Lil 1


2 Dead murder was the case that they gave me
Dear God, I wonder, can you save me?
I'm only eighteen, so I'm a young buck
It's a riot, if I don't scrap
I'm getting stuck
But that's the life of a G, I guess
Eses way deep, shanked two in the chest
Best run 'cause brothers is dropping quicker
Uh, too late, damn, down goes another nigga
Bouncing off the walls, throwing them dogs
Getting that rep as a young hog
It ain't nothing like the street life
You better be strapped with your shank
'cause ain't no fist fight
So I guess I gots to handle mine
Since I did the crime, I gots to do my time

Them say me grow up to be nothing
Look at me now and tell me what you see
I am what I am, it's only me
Little ghetto boy
Playing in the ghetto street
Whatcha gonna do when you grow up
And have to face responsibility?

Now I'm holding a dub, sitting on swoll
27 years old, up for parole, stroll
I'm back up on my feet with
My mind on the money
That I'll be making soon as
I touch the streets
Things done changed on this side
Remember they used to thump
But now they blast, right
But it ain't no thang to me
'Cause now I'm what they
Call a loced-assed OG
The little homies from the hood with grip
Are the ones I get with 'cause
I'm down to set trip
Nigga, I'm bigger than you
So what you wanna do?
Didn't know he had a twenty-two
Straight sitting behind his back
I grabbed his pockets and then
I heard six caps
I fell to the ground with blood on my hands
I didn't understand
How a nigga so young could bust a cap
I used to be the same way back
I guess that's what I get (For what?)
For trying to jack the little
Homies for they grip

Me learn many things from what
Me see from the street
The outcome of what I've come to be
Little ghetto boy
Playing in the ghetto street
Whatcha gonna do when you grow up
And have to face responsibility?

Something for the real OGs to get with
Some facts, made our made
Now you runnin' but don't play
Like every single day, really, though
You know me, I'm the smooth macadamien
Gaming them for my homie
No needing being calm if you pack right
And learning just enough to
Keep your sack right
Late nights, I wonder what they getting for?
Early morning on the corners
What they hitting for?
Seven young G's put they serve down
In a G ride
East side's where they swerve now
Not thinking about what's really going on
Got crept on, stepped on, now they gone
I spent four years in the county
With nothing but convicts around me
But now I'm back at the Pound
And we expose ways for the youth to survive
Some think it's wrong but we
Tend to think it's right
So make all them ends you can make
'Cause when you're broke, you break
Check it out
So ain't no need for your mama to trip
'Cause you's a hustlin'-ass youngsta
Clocking your grip

Now me finally grown as you can see
Still an OG for life and always remain to be
A little ghetto boy
Playing in the ghetto street
Whatcha gonna do when you grow up
And have to face responsibility?