Living in the ghetto you've got to be bold

Facing those faces that are made out of stones

With hearts that don't beat because they're very cold

The ghetto story is about many dogs with just one bone

Too many questions must never be asks

minding your own business should be your ultimate task

With dogs of steel barking by faces behind dark masks

Bodies hitting concrete with breath that can't last

Foods are limited so you've to go & hustle for the bread

Rising very early no time to make up the bed

Loud speaker thumping numbing the pains in the head

Bodies gyrating like the night of the living dead

Sitting on sidewalks with gutter stenched with feaces

Watching people lives shattering to pieces

Plagued by desperation a recipe for diseases

Hungry stomachs growing & producing angry faces

Central & local governances do have a disconnection

Producing lives of crimes with brains on limited education

A 10' x 10' cell apartment is there grilled-up accommodation

With toughed-up queers ready for flirtations

"Crab inna barrel" syndrome is the real ghetto story

And if you're lucky to "ghet-out" you'll received some glory

But if not your story will continued to be scary

With either a permanent visit to a prison or the cemetery.