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Chorus |
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Children play, women produce |
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Kids killing kids just for the juice |
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Now africa is looking for the truth |
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But it's gonna take a while to enlighten the youth |
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In this edition of the story, no need to bore me |
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It can't do nothin' for me, even denzel washington couldn't find any glory |
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In the overcrowded streets of the city |
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I know it's shitty, but i can do without the pity |
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(baby never lived in the ghetto)...or the projects |
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But i wear my tim boots and hi-tecs, and i wrecks havoc |
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And if you try to play me i won't have it |
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Trix are for kids, this kid is not a silly rabbit |
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(well) he's standin' on a corner with his system pumpin' loud |
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Next him goin' off, scream in the crowd |
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A whole lot of screams, a lot of broken glass |
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Brothers like to wear their pants fallin' off their ass |
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Girls today don't wear no bras |
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Little john doe got a ho turnin' tricks in the bars |
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Grandma carries a can of mace |
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And she'll stick a .45 in your face |
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So come and meet my man brett (yo, what up, brett?) |
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He's smokin', but it's not a cigarette (speak on it, pep) |
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I wonder how the hell a brother lets himself |
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Get into somethin' he can't out of? (uh-huh, uh-huh) |
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A lot of my friends are sick and tired (sick of who?) |
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The police (word!) rollin' on 'em, pickin' on, holdin' on 'em |
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Hopin' that they got one of 'em |
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It was a drug bust, but something's weird |
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(well, what's the matter, spinderella?) |
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The way half a million disappeared |
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Chorus |
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Heaven and hell is on earth |
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Heaven and hell is on earth |
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Who gives a damn about me? |
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(huh?) me (what?), me, yeah, little old me |
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Me, myself, and i |
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Live or die, laugh or cry |
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I'm all that i got, pops, and that's a lot, hops |
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I'd rather rot in jail before i ho-hop |
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Go 'head, me, tell 'em |
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They may be hard of hearing |
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So keep yellin' at the top of your lungs |
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Now everybody's got guns |
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They wanna be hard rocks and not be a fool |
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That buys a history book |
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Not me, i'll need a clock, not rock to my hits |
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And that two-fifth click to my tits |
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And playgirl's gonna rip, and i'm-a have to rip shit |
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Ah, go for yours cuz you gotta |
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In the ghetto you don't get a medal if you settle for the drama |
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She's a gangster and the other terminal cancer |
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Ask too many questions and my smith and wesson will answer |
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Heaven and hell is on earth |
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Heaven and hell is on earth |
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Well everybody be damned, her father's in jail |
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Sister's on the corner screamin', "booty for sale" |
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Mom spends the night gettin' drunk with her uncle |
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Her brother's sellin' radios and toasters by the trunkful |
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See, every man she ever messed would wind up dead |
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Some might fall in jail, others runnin' from the feds |
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(the only thing she ever loved was a piece of lead) |
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And that's a double-barrelled pump underneath the bed |
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Some people wanna fill the world with silly love songs and looney tunes |
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And some got sad songs, mad songs, and moody blues |
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There's good news and bad news, military coups |
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A rebel with no cause in a pack of fools |
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I never lived in the slum, never shot a gun |
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But i'll use one, don't make me use one |
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Chorus |
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Heaven and hell is on earth |
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Heaven and hell is on earth |
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Chorus (repeat/fade) |
