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stro - ghetta story lyrics

check
full out just rappin’ sh-t
figured i’d take it back a little bit
cause i don’t really do this too often

[verse 1 : astro]
i remember back in the days, when n-ggas really ain’t have it
food in my hands i ain’t bite, i grabbed it
bad kid, bad school, bad friends
mamma checking her purse to see i stole the last ten
disperse, hit the block n-gga put it on my tab
i know mamma couldn’t stand my black -ss
blue, red, american no black flags
you blend in with the crowd or get clapped fast
my n-gga sold weed for cash, back in cl-ss
i was the smartest
but showed off for broads with the cakes
since 5th grade babies was made
not by this kid they only let the crips hit
sh-t, one chick was so bad we was beggin
one week in the school, the second week she was pregnant
kinda scary but
to me it was a joke
shawtys offer me neck, i’d prolly choke
i use to take notes, go home, forget all i wrote
(?)
that’s unless it was a rhyme
i knew i’d be poppin’ in due time
it’s crazy how my n-ggas do time
leave the pen, celebrate like they’re men
and when
3 o’clock hit we was on that on the block sh-t
gunshots from last week seeking who got hit
feds investigating, we instigating
lost souls but with the business we found our way in
i was swaying with my brownsville crew
i never told my mamma ‘bout the sh-t i use to do
remember i came home with my face black and blue
she was feindin’, screaming for answers like who?
i never told, the reason why
see mamma is jamaican she don’t let that sh-t fly
she woulda tried to fight the dudes that hit i
and if somebody hit my mamma, somebody gotta die
i though ahead when i wanted to
i never smoke, n-ggas said i move like i hit a blunt or two
a wise fella i sit back and observe
let the pen hit the pad like the bodies hit the curb
n-ggas called me weird cause i focused on my verbs
i spent hot weather puttin’ words together if ever
i leave this place, i come back godlike
let the fate [?]
make sh-t that the dons like
this is my story, a true ghetta story
i’m just making [?] what he put before me
let the memories motivate, get the [?]
tell the block i hit the studio, i’ll be back late
this is my story now you ghetta story
make work with the universe put before we
let the memories motivate, get the pape
tell the block my sh-t’s hot, i’ll be back straight
realest sh-t i ever wrote

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