| Yeah, Yo |
| Until it’s my time to come |
| When it goes down and die young |
| With the good ones they call us thugs and hoodlums |
| Learn to believe, like the Qur’ans and Muslims |
| When it’s war, we all ride the whole hood comes |
| The sky slopes for niggas with high hopes |
| Politician hand in your pocket tryna buy votes |
| Staring down the barrel of a periscope |
| Got us screamin' in the megaphone, leave us alone |
| My niggas’ll leave home, but they ain’t leavin' the chrome |
| And you don’t really want a piece so just leave it alone |
| Still in the hood looking good |
| But these ghetto kids looking out |
| And they ain’t learnin' shit about |
| The life has been about when your out there |
| And very scared ya with me, we in the inner city |
| P come and get me out the block |
| Before my raw toddlers rots and my tall toddler dots |
| I was born & raised in the ghetto |
| Fiends stay on the jones |
| Cops stay working the beat |
| Young thugs walking the steet |
| Carrying heat, swearing and brawls |
| Cold hearted dots, reppin' Canada’s first block |
| Regent Park, the ghetto |
| Another shot rang out |
| From a young king holdin' something he couldn’t handle |
| Pops never took the time to teach him |
| Like son make sure you have a firm grip on anything you squeezing |
| You play the streets all four season |
| You never had a reason to forfeit |
| The 4−5 will make him cough shit |
| Piss out blood, rearange your mug |
| Now that’s what you get when you fuck with a thug |
| You can tell the judge |
| I’m fighting till the case gone |
| In a place where the weak starve |
| And the strong get sprayed on |
| Days long, nights longer with drama |
| Unfolds, guns unload |
| Nobody knows that’s the street code |
| I was born & raised in the ghetto |
| So the ghetto to me and ghetto to you |
| So save all them thoughts that you think that the ghetto can be |
| Snotty nose kids runnin' round oh so clean |
| This park is full of dirty cream with nothin' but big dreams |
| Of one day making that big cream |
| It would seem so hard to shake it |
| And it’s hard to face, so many broken hearted faces |
| Doing whatever it takes, whatever the stakes to make it |
| Regent Park masses, the that’s cool rock classics |
| Sunday in the park rollin' up caspers |
| Fast cash, with the flip bills, shit’s to real |
| To handle on the beach so we keep it in the streets |
| And you ask me why I act this way |
| I’m from a park where we don’t play |
| That’s why I rap this way |
| For all my people who don’t have nothin' |
| Tryna have somethin' |
| Everybody keepin' it true, this ones for you |
| I was born & raised in the ghetto |