True God — American Ghetto lyrics

The page contains the lyrics of the song "American Ghetto" by True God.


American ghetto, the blocks I used to dwell as a youngster/
Wild niggas off the corner rolling dice by the dumpsters/
We was eating syrup sandwiches with sugar water/
Ain’t trying to find no future wife, so I ain’t looking for her/
Making fun of all the chinks as they took your order/
A good kid at heart, but somehow still a crook in aura/
You see the phony niggas act hardest/
But shit the quiet niggas out there getting it, cause we lack harvest/
It’s all a cycle, a kid grows from being in diapers, to walking the same blocks
that his father did/
Niggas is weed smoking, gun-toting, not aware of what Marcus Garvey gives/ but
they know who Bob Marley is/
Posted/ on the block, never voted/ but they guns done been reloaded/ they
follow conditioning that’s promoted/
We been lied to/ supplied to/
Selling dope keep us afloat/ born with no hope/ but apathy lives inside you/
Religion flow through the hood, try and bury the devil/
Living heartless inside of this american ghetto/
We living life, chasing money, never stay clean/
American ghetto, the blocks where all my niggas dream/
We come from nothing, we just trying to make it on the scene/
American ghetto the blocks where all my niggas dream/
You keeping quiet, never telling anything you seen/
American ghetto, the blocks where my niggas dream/… the blocks, the blocks,
the blocks where my niggas dream/ american ghetto, the blocks where my niggas
American ghetto, just recalling my experience/
Where daily peer pressure starts to alter our appearances/
Can’t think on your own, there’s too many interferences/
Watch the dope fiends shoot up, call it experiments/
Witness as you hearing it/
The architects of genocide reside here, but look closer to who’s engineering it/
We fighting in this war, looking up to all the rappers with clout/
Though they ain’t living what they rapping about/
We saw Biggie in Versace, every nigga wanna shine like Frank/
Buy a Mercedes, but can’t fill up the tank/
Them south niggas had us talking about candy paint/
And vogues/ so we just following the curve I suppose/
Rap videos, with diamonds that’s froze/ big booty bitches and hoes/
Create a dream for a nigga that’s poor/ so we wanna make millions like Hov/
And get a bitch like Beyonce, or at least achieve one of them goals/ but unsure/
So many niggas want the fame, on the stoop, as they pour/
Out shots of liquor/ captivated by pictures/ we knocking on heaven’s door/
But fascinated with hell/ and aggravated by struggle, but live it forever more/
exaggerated your tales/
Of grandeur/ and slander/ you wander into the band of/ dreamers,
what do you stand for/
Dreaming of wealth now at various levels/
We wanna shine like the rich in our american ghetto/.
I’m from the era of Patrick Ewing, and John Starks/
Shoot for the stars? I guess my range is beyond arcs/
Wanna be Barkley, without no rings to capture/
Trying to slam harder like Vince Carter for the Raptors/
Idolize Jordan/
Thinking our only options rap, play ball or get left with itemized portions/
So as you look into the eyes of the desolate/
And see what reigns down as a means of the desperate/
Excellence/ on courts, just dreaming of being Kobe/
Observing all of the handles and mimic them all slowly/
I was watching Gary Payton, Shawn Kemp, favorite team was the Sonics/
Rocking that green, while we rolling up chronic/
We looked up to Larry Johnson, never understood Grandmama, emasculation,
but his game was accomplished/
Lil niggas wanna be KJ, a fan of the 93' Suns/
To tell the truth that’s where my dreaming begun/
From Lebron to Durant, the new era is settled/
We wanna ball like the greats in this American Ghetto/