Song Description

Reflective and encouraging admonition to children in America's impoverished and violence-plagued ghettos

Lyrics

Children of the ghetto
Keep your head

Chin up little n*ggas

To the sky

Shattered glasses on the sidewalk and they want street talk
The elements of life that the police beat walk
The O.G. see him, Tell him ?Young boy, be smart?
See he got heart but see these streets hard
Around here? Better yet, down here
The bottom of the barrels
Ain?t no heroes round here
Nor Tribunes or Inquirers for one to inquire
If there?s a opening for one
For one who?s never been hired
The bench riders always need help
But then he pushing from a pack that someone got from somebody else
And it helps to be connected like extension cords
To plug in to the sockets you extended for
But poor, all alone
Grandmother, she at home
His Ma stuck in the eighties
Couldn?t leave it alone
Now his pops? Where his pops at?
Hell, pops been gone
But every now and then he pop up
The rolling stone
And it?s on?

Children of the ghetto

Don?t give up, Don?t get down
Don?t give in, Don?t give out
You give up, You get down

Filled with misery, yeah

You give in, You give out
They give out
Still they?ll never make it out
Still they?ll never make it out
It?s about

Children of the ghetto

(Repeat)

Physically, he?s still young but his mind?s so grown
They don?t mind it that he out there when street lights on
Amongst the pipers and the products of where heat call home
Broken lighters, the igniters of the c-rock stone
Shorty keep keep on
He know when he get grown
The first thing he go?n cop after he cop chrome
A box Chevy with the skinnies like the dope boys own
And a quiet place that he can call his own? his home
He got to class late
He left early, couldn?t wait
?The hood is calling my name?
That?s what he used to say
That?s what he used to want
That?s why he made the point to stay
After his granny passed his mom moved him up the way
Just up the block, It ain?t no different where he used to play
He used to other niggas
Used to how the niggas hate
He 15, he doing things, see he losing weight
That baby fat, fuck a pack, he think he moving weight

Chorus

With? No motivation, no education, no demonstration
No holiday for a hustler, customers is waiting
On dirty back blocks posted at the stash spot
Him and the have-nots
It?s cold but the Ave hot
He don?t cry but you could see he be sad a lot
His head down, pants sag, feet drag a lot
Through a cluttered lot filled with what the ghetto got
A lot of nothing but it?s something when that?s all you got
Got no religion, no one to miss him, he full of pain
The smokers buy him liquor, cigarettes, and other things
He roll a dutch and inhale, Holla ?Fuck it man?
Let?s get this money, it?s hell
I see him suffering
I cop a 20 sac, every time a see him black
I know it?s wrong but it?s right
Cause he be needing that
I show him love, the only love he ever knew in fact
He don?t know it, but I know it
He go?n make it crack

Chorus