[Chorus: Jaheim]
Mama, don't cry for me
Papa, don't feel bad
Code in the streets that they gotta keep
You bang so they bang back
Our city, our ghetto, our boroughs
So merrily, it's all we had
[Verse 1: Jaheim]
Mama, I know you're listening
We hope our prayers we get up to heaven
If we fall, we are not forgotten
Don't let our little brothers end up like we did
Let 'em grow up and get a job
Don't let 'em grow up behind bars, tryna be hard
Or oh and Father [?] my feet ([?] his feet)
[?] the wrong color on the wrong street with no heat
Rocking Dickie's and checkers, bandanas, my brothers
Hate them or love them, they still got each other
They twist their hands up, and pull their pants up
Walk this way, throw your flag and your set up
[Verse 2: Jay Rock]
I came up in the ghetto where it's complete chaos
Gang injunction had them boys sic'ing off the canines
Product of my environment, violence had my people rioting
We was doing 50/50 on the same odds
On the porch with a red rag getting my hair cut
Finished, jeans sagging, mama yelled "Pull your pants up"
She knew I was born in it like a placenta
Prays for me, but lord knows Rock is a sinner
Rally through other neighborhoods reppin' my section
My mouth cuss words, my palm clutching a western
The streets turned a nigga out, before I was 12
Serving junkies, me and the homies had phone over cells
Banged out like a motherfucker
City of angels, but every corner the devil hug us, for real though
It's cutthroat but I bleed the block till I be the block in a hearse
I put that on my pops, you feel me
Mama, don't cry for me
Papa, don't feel bad
Code in the streets that they gotta keep
You bang so they bang back
Our city, our ghetto, our boroughs
So merrily, it's all we had
[Verse 1: Jaheim]
Mama, I know you're listening
We hope our prayers we get up to heaven
If we fall, we are not forgotten
Don't let our little brothers end up like we did
Let 'em grow up and get a job
Don't let 'em grow up behind bars, tryna be hard
Or oh and Father [?] my feet ([?] his feet)
[?] the wrong color on the wrong street with no heat
Rocking Dickie's and checkers, bandanas, my brothers
Hate them or love them, they still got each other
They twist their hands up, and pull their pants up
Walk this way, throw your flag and your set up
[Verse 2: Jay Rock]
I came up in the ghetto where it's complete chaos
Gang injunction had them boys sic'ing off the canines
Product of my environment, violence had my people rioting
We was doing 50/50 on the same odds
On the porch with a red rag getting my hair cut
Finished, jeans sagging, mama yelled "Pull your pants up"
She knew I was born in it like a placenta
Prays for me, but lord knows Rock is a sinner
Rally through other neighborhoods reppin' my section
My mouth cuss words, my palm clutching a western
The streets turned a nigga out, before I was 12
Serving junkies, me and the homies had phone over cells
Banged out like a motherfucker
City of angels, but every corner the devil hug us, for real though
It's cutthroat but I bleed the block till I be the block in a hearse
I put that on my pops, you feel me
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