True God - American Ghetto lyrics

[Intro] [Verse One: True God] American ghetto, the blocks I used to dwell as a youngster/ Wild n***as off the corner rolling dice by the dumpsters/ We was eating syrup sandwiches with sugar water/ Ain't trying to find no future wife, so I ain't looking for her/ Making fun of all the chinks as they took your order/ A good kid at heart, but somehow still a crook in aura/ You see the phony n***as act hardest/ But sh** the quiet n***as out there getting it, cause we lack harvest/ It's all a cycle, a kid grows from being in diapers, to walking the same blocks that his father did/ n***as is weed smoking, gun-toting, not aware of what Marcus Garvey gives/ but they know who Bob Marley is/ Posted/ on the block, never voted/ but they guns done been reloaded/ they follow conditioning that's promoted/ We been lied to/ supplied to/ Selling dope keep us afloat/ born with no hope/ but apathy lives inside you/ Religion flow through the hood, try and bury the devil/ Living heartless inside of this american ghetto/ [Hook] We living life, chasing money, never stay clean/ American ghetto, the blocks where all my n***as dream/ We come from nothing, we just trying to make it on the scene/ American ghetto the blocks where all my n***as dream/ You keeping quiet, never telling anything you seen/ American ghetto, the blocks where my n***as dream/... the blocks, the blocks, the blocks where my n***as dream/ american ghetto, the blocks where my n***as dream/ [Verse Two: True God] American ghetto, just recalling my experience/ Where daily peer pressure starts to alter our appearances/ Can't think on your own, there's too many interferences/ Watch the dope fiends shoot up, call it experiments/ Witness as you hearing it/ The architects of genocide reside here, but look closer to who's engineering it/ We fighting in this war, looking up to all the rappers with clout/ Though they ain't living what they rapping about/ We saw Biggie in Versace, every n***a wanna shine like Frank/ Buy a Mercedes, but can't fill up the tank/ Them south n***as had us talking about candy paint/ And vogues/ so we just following the curve I suppose/ Rap videos, with diamonds that's froze/ big booty b**hes and hoes/ Create a dream for a n***a that's poor/ so we wanna make millions like Hov/ And get a b**h like Beyonce, or at least achieve one of them goals/ but unsure/ So many n***as want the fame, on the stoop, as they pour/ Out shots of liquor/ captivated by pictures/ we knocking on heaven's door/ But fascinated with hell/ and aggravated by struggle, but live it forever more/ exaggerated your tales/ Of grandeur/ and slander/ you wander into the band of/ dreamers, what do you stand for/ Dreaming of wealth now at various levels/ We wanna shine like the rich in our american ghetto/.. [Hook] [Verse Three: True God] I'm from the era of Patrick Ewing, and John Starks/ Shoot for the stars? I guess my range is beyond arcs/ Wanna be Barkley, without no rings to capture/ Trying to slam harder like Vince Carter for the Raptors/ Idolize Jordan/ Thinking our only options rap, play ball or get left with itemized portions/ So as you look into the eyes of the desolate/ And see what reigns down as a means of the desperate/ Excellence/ on courts, just dreaming of being Kobe/ Observing all of the handles and mimic them all slowly/ I was watching Gary Payton, Shawn Kemp, favorite team was the Sonics/ Rocking that green, while we rolling up chronic/ We looked up to Larry Johnson, never understood Grandmama, emasculation, but his game was accomplished/ Lil n***as wanna be KJ, a fan of the 93' Suns/ To tell the truth that's where my dreaming begun/ From Lebron to Durant, the new era is settled/ We wanna ball like the greats in this American Ghetto/ [Hook]