You know, Tone
It really ain't that bad
Once you understand
The science of this shit
College Boyz coming to you
For the year 2000
Covering all sectors
Of the universe
Creep through the hood
With my drop top
Gangstas on the sidelines
Throwing up nothing
But a peace sign
Brothers on the curb
With the herb
Levis, knee high
O.G's clock as I creep by
Crib to crib
Rolls up to kid's girls I dig
They all know me
So the ghetto stays cozy
Team to team
Sport a couple of trophys
One for the dope
And the other for the homie
The ghetto's a real
Fool place to be fucked up
Sundown to sunup
But that's the way we come up
You talk with the street slang
You ball and you gang bang
That's where the family hangs
So it ain't no thang
It doesn't seem like
I'll be going nowhere
I'm just a victim of the ghetto
It doesn't seem like I'll be
Getting too far, too far
Yeah, it's like a family affair
If you get through
Plenty of?
Say, what's up
Keep your mouth shut, yup
High rollers know me
But they don't own me
(Fuck you)
5-0 might roll through quite slow
Keep the forty in the bag
And throw away the Zig Zag
Waiting for five or six to come
Down goes the sun
So we can run a game of 21
Call me anything
From a hoodlum to a thug
You can push and you can shove
And I still won't budge
I'm just a victim of the ghetto
Won't be getting too far, too far
I'm just a victim of the ghetto
Too far, too far, no
Movie stars, yuppies
Macs and politicians
Roll through to get
A nickel or a ten
They know me, I know them
But then again I can't extend
More than I need to
Cause suddenly, they read me
And lead you astray
And transactions completed
Your presence in my ghetto
Ain't needed, so beat it
Born and raised on
The same damn concrete
And I'll be put to sleep
In these streets
I step into a different world
For college education
Keep my safe ways
Pay days stays in effect
I just can't let go
I want my respect so
I gotta return to the
Nation of my ghetto
I'm just a victim of the ghetto
Too far, to far
So know you now
College Boyz sending out a fistful
To the Baytown Posse
Concrete Evidence, the CB Posse
My main man, TJ
Omega sci-fi, overdose
Suicide, homicide
DOA and genocide
And to the law
Keep your ass on the
Other side of the tracks
This is The Q signing out
On radio fusion radio
(Victim of the ghetto)
Checkmate