—so, all of you Africans

All of you Africans that know how to do things that's working for other people

Y'all need to open your own business

Save your money, quit paying motherfuckers for jheri curls

Quit paying motherfuckers for perms

Save your money, start your own business

So these little Africans will have wa—places to work

This is our future right here!

This our future right here! (Right there)

This—(The new generation is going! The new generation!)

Hey, I'ma tell you right now

If—If—If I have to die today, for this little African right here to have a future, I'm a dead motherfucker! (You right! Respect!)

Wake up, jumped out my bed

I'm in a two man cell with my homie Lil 1/2 Dead

Murder was the case that they gave me

Dear God, I wonder, can you save me?

I'm only eighteen, so I'm a young buck

It's a riot, if I don't scrap, I'm getting stuck

But that's the life of a G, I guess

Eses way deep, shanked two in the chest

Best run 'cause brothers is dropping quicker

Uh, too late, damn, down goes another nigga

Bouncing off the walls, throwing them dogs

Getting that rep as a young hog

It ain't nothing like the street life

You better be strapped with your shank, 'cause ain't no fist fight

So I guess I gots to handle mine

Since I did the crime, I gots to do my time

Them say me grow up to be nothing

Look at me now and tell me what you see

I am what I am, it's only me

Little ghetto boy

Playing in the ghetto street

What you gonna do when you grow up

And have to face responsibility?

Now I'm holding a dub, sitting on swoll

27 years old, up for parole, stroll

I'm back up on my feet with my mind on the money

That I'll be making soon as I touch the streets

Things done changed on this side

Remember they used to thump, but now they blast, right

But it ain't no thing to me

'Cause now I'm what they call a loced-assed OG

The little homies from the hood with grip

Are the ones I get with 'cause I'm down to set trip

Nigga, I'm bigger than you, so what you wanna do?

Didn't know he had a twenty-two

Straight sitting behind his back

I grabbed his pockets and then I heard six caps

I fell to the ground with blood on my hands

I didn't understand

How a nigga so young could bust a cap

I used to be the same way back

I guess that's what I get (For what?)

For trying to jack the little homies for they grip

Me learn many things from what me see from the street

The outcome of what I've come to be

Little ghetto boy

Playing in the ghetto street

What you gonna do when you grow up

And have to face responsibility?

Something for the real OGs to get with

Some facts, made our made, now you running but don't play

Like every single day, really, though

You know me, I'm the smooth macadamien, gaming them for my homie

No needing being calm if you pack right

And learning just enough to keep your sack right

Late nights, I wonder what they're getting for?

Early morning on the corners, what they're hitting for?

Seven young Gs put their serve down

In a G ride, east side's where they swerve now

Not thinking about what's really going on

Got crept on, stepped on, now they're gone

I spent four years in the county with nothing but convicts around me

But now I'm back at the Pound

And we expose ways for the youth to survive

Some think it's wrong but we tend to think it's right

So make all them ends you can make

'Cause when you're broke, you break, check it out

So ain't no need for your mama to trip

'Cause you's a hustling-ass youngster, clocking your grip

Now me finally grown as you can see, still an OG

For life and always remain to be

A little ghetto boy

Playing in the ghetto street

What you gonna do when you grow up

And have to face responsibility?