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I am a ghetto boy with no ware to go, so I talk to the lord to keep my flow.
The answer came that would make me a man.
He said the graveyard would be calling my name, but you want fame;
so here i go. Make the wrong move and the door will close.
I said lord I can't help myself, unemployment on the rise and i don't have many 
friends; cause i begin to wonder is there spies with in.
All i want to do is to get out of this rut, without hanging with the fellas
selling dope at the cut.
I don't want no mess so i carry a peice in case some fool want some of me.
Hitting the switch in the car so my girl can get in, I keep her with me
to keep me from committing a sin. I am a ghetto boy, but i'm out to win.
All these things mean something to me.
It is not what you would see in a hustlers magazine.
A stash of dope in the trunk and thee dogs at the cut,
dressing in hood gear and waring bullets proof vests.
Is death the promise for doing my best.
I am a ghetto boy with no ware to go, so i talk to the lord to keep my flow.
 
                                         THE END

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