[Intro: Jay-Z]
Geah.. whassup?
To all my street niggas, project niggas
Real niggas, worldwide
Let's reflect, everybody got a story
We all ghetto B, here's mine
Geah
[Verse 1: Jay-Z]
See I was, born in sewage, born to make bomb music
Flow tight like I was born Jewish
Used the streets as a conduit
I kept arms .38 longs inside my mom's Buick
At any given moment Shawn could lose it, be on the news
Iron cuffs - arms through it, or stuffed with embalming fluid
Shit, I'm going through it - mom dukes too
Tears streaming down her pretty face, she got her palms to it
My life is getting too wild
I need to bring some sort of calm to it
Bout to lose it voices screaming "Don't do it!"
It's like '93, '94, 'bout the year
That Big and Mack dropped and Illmatic rocked
Outta every rag drop, and the West had it locked
Everybody doing them, I'm still stretching on the block
Like "Damn, I'ma be a failure"
Surrounded by thugs, drugs, and drug paraphernalia
Cops, courts, and their thoughts is to derail us
Three-time felons in shorts with jealous thoughts
Trying to figure where your mail is
Guesstimate the weight you selling
So they can send shots straight to your melon; wait!
It gets worse, baby momma water burst
Baby came out stillborn, still I gotta move on
Though my heart still torn, life gone from her womb
Don't worry, if it was meant to be, it'll be soon
Geah.. whassup?
To all my street niggas, project niggas
Real niggas, worldwide
Let's reflect, everybody got a story
We all ghetto B, here's mine
Geah
[Verse 1: Jay-Z]
See I was, born in sewage, born to make bomb music
Flow tight like I was born Jewish
Used the streets as a conduit
I kept arms .38 longs inside my mom's Buick
At any given moment Shawn could lose it, be on the news
Iron cuffs - arms through it, or stuffed with embalming fluid
Shit, I'm going through it - mom dukes too
Tears streaming down her pretty face, she got her palms to it
My life is getting too wild
I need to bring some sort of calm to it
Bout to lose it voices screaming "Don't do it!"
It's like '93, '94, 'bout the year
That Big and Mack dropped and Illmatic rocked
Outta every rag drop, and the West had it locked
Everybody doing them, I'm still stretching on the block
Like "Damn, I'ma be a failure"
Surrounded by thugs, drugs, and drug paraphernalia
Cops, courts, and their thoughts is to derail us
Three-time felons in shorts with jealous thoughts
Trying to figure where your mail is
Guesstimate the weight you selling
So they can send shots straight to your melon; wait!
It gets worse, baby momma water burst
Baby came out stillborn, still I gotta move on
Though my heart still torn, life gone from her womb
Don't worry, if it was meant to be, it'll be soon
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