Ghetto Show - Anthony Hamilton Lyrics - Beautiful Struggle - Talib Kweli

Ghetto to ghetto, backyard to yard 

We tear it up y'all, bless the mic with the gods (come on) 

Precious metals round our necks and arms (yea) 

We tear it up y'all, bless the mic with the gods 

Ghetto to ghetto, backyard to yard 

We tear it up y'all, bless the mic with the gods (come on) 

Precious metals round our necks and arms (yea) 

We tear it up y'all, bless the mic with the gods 

(Hook: Anthony Hamilton) 

Whatever in your heart is where you want to be 

My hood is the ghetto 

Even when you look 

Its never what you see 

My hood is the ghetto 

I've been down before up is just a reach 

Cause my hood is the ghetto 

Catch a second wind 

Then begin again 

My hood is the ghetto 

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(Verse 1: Common) 

Black magic in the hood, its tragic but understood 

Crack addicts, crack windows, crack wood 

Even whats bad becomes good, status becomes stood 

Upon the pedestal welcome to the ghetto show 

Federal buildings, pissy hallways filled 

with children pushing children 

Fiends lips peeling, shit seems real and 

What's real is the estate of mind that we're in 

The situation feels great 

My man peels weight, so he can fill plates 

You might get love but you still feel hate 

Through and chain plates, we communicate 

Chicago to brooklyn nigga real ones do relate 

Photos 

(Verse 2: Talib Kweli) 

If lyrics sold then truth be told 

I'll probably be just as rich and famous as jay-z 

Truthfully I wanna rhyme like common sense 

Next best thing I do a record with common sense 

Cause its the music, its blues, its jazz, its acoustics 

Soul, rock and roll the hip hop we be producing yea 

It's the gear, it's the flare, it's the stare 

Nowadays they'll shot you where they used to shoot the fair 

Remember the lost soldiers, pour a beer, shoot the air 

We got our own elected officials, no matter who the mayor 

I know you know what I'm talking about 

From New York to the South, 

take off your shoes when you walk in the house 

(Hook) 

(Verse 3: Talib Kweli) 

Yo 

I grew up where they're playing skele in the parking lot 

And sell paintings of Aaliyah, BIG and Pac up in the barbershop 

Buildings too big so you don't really see the stars a lot 

But rapping, drinking, and going 

to prison you see them bars a lot 

I feel the spirit in the dark and hear it in my heart 

And always keep my ears to the block till I dearly depart 

Hip hop is really the art 

We have to express the part of ourselves 

that make us want to martyr ourselves 

It ain't harder to tell when somebody 

stick you up and put the hammer to you 

They want them dead presidents like Stickman and Mutulu 

With a gun to your jaw, these kids don't run anymore 

Kicks is a hundred or more 

(Verse 4: Common) 

A man in front of the store, begging for money and mercy 

I told him say a prayer under his breath, he cursed me 

Niggaz is thirsty, I heard it's a drought 

Up early, serving from their grandmother's house 

Sometime the ghetto feels desolate, 

yo the eyes of the hood yo is desperate 

Effected by the deficit, times and lessons get hard 

Either get by or get god, but but you try to get by 

It's like the block keep blocking 

You try to make moves, its like the car just keep stopping 

We shorties in the court, need cochran yea 

I tell them why the weed seeds popping, 

in the game you need options 

No time for feet watching, 

me and kwe keep rocking for the ghetto 

Hook times 2