Ghostface Killah, Cappadonna, Raekwon, U-God - Ghetto lyrics

I was born and raised, in the ghetto
I was born and raised, in the ghetto
I was born and raised, in the ghetto
Listen to me, and just lay up

Park Hill Projects, one eight pound
Holding it down, that's the motto
'lo goose and lottos
Blunts on the regular, OG style
I'm into old V's, swinging in cabs
Slinging them OZ's
All I know is running in fiends' labs
Hitting the green bags
Visualizing Chef in the green Jag's
Wait til I get on, the haters gonna hate it
In this corner
A rich young don with a crisp lab

Humming brother, listen to me
Brother, listen to me
Listen to me, and just lay up
How do you make your bread in the ghetto?
How do you make your bread in the ghetto?

Hustling, hustle & flow
We make bread in the ghetto
By selling that crack
See niggas that make bread by busting the gat
Might stick a nigga up
Stab him dead in his back
It's a dirty bread game
But we get through them stacks
Bread game, rather have bread than fame
Some sell pills and weed, it ain't no joke
Might sell anything as long as we not broke
So if you getting that bread
We be coming for your throat
It's crazy what a brother might
Do for the bread
Might violate parole til ya family is dead
We get bread in the ghetto
While we ducking the feds
I heard bread in the ghetto got
A loaf on his head, come on

Brother, listen to me brother, listen to me
Listen to me, and just lay up
How do you get rid of rats in the ghetto?

Yo, yo, aiyo we ox 'em, duff 'em
Stuff 'em in black bags torture them
Toss 'em out the window with rift rafts
Cuz we don't take kindly to
Rats in the ghetto
Either your mouth stay shut or
Get slapped with the metal
Big fat rats get fried
Like porkchops for snitching
Get your ass hung like a wall clock
It's Tone Stark
Billy the Kid when the gun bark
A wire sticking out his shirt
He talking to NARC!

How do you raise your kids in the ghetto?
How do you raise your kids in the ghetto?
Feed one child and starve another
Tell me, tell me, and just lay up

We like brothers
We came from the same mothers
In the projects, under the same covers
Wore the same drawers, fucked the same whores
Rolled dice, kicked rhymes
Did crimes in the same hall
Sprayed our names on the same wall
Yo, your kids knew my kids
Your wiz knew my wiz
Now you caught up in music and showbiz
If that's what it is, then that's what it is
Run up in your crib
With twelve black brothers
That'll digest to live, die just to live
Some called us martyrs
Some called us fathers
Run up in the club like the suicide bombers
We be the brothers, ready past lovers
Never wanna see us, blow, we not others
Somewhere in the competition
Friends got lost the money got flipped
Your tables got crossed
Now you all caught up in that label talk
Brain dead in the grain of thoughts
With a name and a game
That can change New York
We ate from the same fork
Pop had the same thought echo