Ghetto Star Lyrics

For all my low life thug niggas;
For all my niggas in the hood,
Livin' the life of a ghetto star.
Ha, ha, ha, Makavelli...

Just holla my name
And witness game official.
Niggas is so shame;
They stare stiff like scared bitches,
While I remain inside a paradox.
Gone my block;
Though gun shots is promised to me; when will I stop?
I hit the weed
And hope to god I can fly high.
Witness my enemies
Die when I ride by;
They shouldn'ta tried me.
Send they bodies to they parents, up north,
With they faces, they wrists, and they nuts cut off.
Fuck 'em all, what I scream as I dream in tones,
Fuck a trick, get me rich 'n the bitches'll come,
Bust ma gun; make 'em all scatta.
Bullets to my nuts only made my balls fatta.
Eat her dead, biatch, mercy, neva that.
You said you comin' back; bring it on, fo'ever straped.
Introduce ya to tha pleasure 'n tha pain,
You could go so far; just sell me ya soul; live tha life of a ghetto star.

I live the life of thug nigga, drug deala, livin' game tight.
Mug nigga, slug nigga, split tha fame like...
Laced with game; practice on takin' pain; equipped same,
And let it rain through ya brain.
Street smart, proficient, intellegent, and keep suckas hittin' till snitchs start smellin'.
Movin' niggaz with telekinesis; keepin' channel at work feelin' different features,
Leadin' niggaz to an early death with they head blown,
And to those who didn't make it to the morgue,
Which is dead 'n gone.
And hope niggaz got fun, kidnapped, jacked in the back with next to they cataracts? They get done,
Back chat, they toast his ass out.
Mob related momma, my nigga, found shot up with his dick in his mouth; print it.
My name in these streets, as a mutha fuckin' g, now the next generation's lookin' worse off than me.

Walkin' through tha cemetery; talkin' to my homies that was buried.
Say my enemies want to see me dead; I ain't worried; forgive me.
Please give me shelter; calm my fears.
Lifted my head from my hand that'll ball me tears.
I see bodies gettin' splashed with acid.
Two shots ring from the plasted guy wrapped in plastic;
Bury tha bastard; time to notify
His family...shit.
Ain't nothin' left to be identify.
Evacuate the crime scene fast; why?
I heard the feds have a warrant fo' my ass; fly.
I won't touch down till I see tijauna.
Setup a shop sellin' them crooked cops marijuana.
Label me a success; I made tha switch; retired from the life that neva gave me shit,
But cash that I couldn't spend, countless cars, and adict fo' a wife; to my life as a ghetto star.
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"Ghetto Star" as written by Anthony Banks, J. Stamps
Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
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