featuring Styowlz











CHORUS



Children play women produce



Kids killing kids just for the juice



Now Africa is looking for the truth



But it's gonna take a while to enlighten the youth







In this edition of the story no need to bore me



It can't do nothin' for me even Denzel Washington couldn't find any glory



In the overcrowded streets of the city



I know it's shitty but I can do without the pity



(Baby never lived in the ghetto)...or the projects



But I wear my Tim boots and Hi-Tecs, and I wrecks havoc



And if you try to play me I won't have it



Trix are for kids, this kid is not a silly rabbit







(Well) He's standin' on a corner with his system pumpin' loud



Next him goin' off, scream in the crowd



A whole lot of screams, a lot of broken glass



Brothers like to wear their pants fallin' off their ass



Girls today don't wear no bras



Little John Doe got a ho turnin' tricks in the bars



Grandma carries a can of mace



And she'll stick a .45 in your face







So come and meet my man Brett (Yo, what up, Brett?)



He's smokin', but it's not a cigarette (Speak on it, Pep)



I wonder how the hell a brother lets himself



Get into somethin' he can't out of? (Uh-huh, uh-huh)



A lot of my friends are sick and tired (Sick of who?)



The police (Word!) rollin' on 'em, pickin' on, holdin' on 'em



Hopin' that they got one of 'em



It was a drug bust, but something's weird



(Well, what's the matter, Spinderella?)



The way half a million disappeared







CHORUS







Heaven and hell is on earth



Heaven and hell is on earth







Who gives a damn about me?



(Huh?) Me (what?), me, yeah, little old me



Me, myself, and I



Live or die, laugh or cry



I'm all that I got, Pops, and that's a lot, Hops



I'd rather rot in jail before I ho-hop



Go 'head, me, tell 'em



They may be hard of hearing



So keep yellin' at the top of your lungs



Now everybody's got guns



They wanna be hard rocks and not be a fool



That buys a history book



Not me, I'll need a clock, not rock to my hits



And that two-fifth click to my tits



And Playgirl's gonna rip, and I'm-a have to rip shit



Ah, go for yours cuz you gotta



In the ghetto you don't get a medal if you settle for the drama



She's a gangster and the other terminal cancer



Ask too many questions and my Smith and Wesson will answer







Heaven and hell is on earth



Heaven and hell is on earth







Well everybody be damned, her father's in jail



Sister's on the corner screamin', "Booty for sale"



Mom spends the night gettin' drunk with her uncle



Her brother's sellin' radios and toasters by the trunkful



See, every man she ever messed would wind up dead



Some might fall in jail, others runnin' from the Feds



(The only thing she ever loved was a piece of lead)



And that's a double-barrelled pump underneath the bed







Some people wanna fill the world with silly love songs and looney tunes



And some got sad songs, mad songs, and moody blues



There's good news and bad news, military coups



A rebel with no cause in a pack of fools



I never lived in the slum, never shot a gun



But I'll use one, don't make me use one







CHORUS







Heaven and hell is on earth



Heaven and hell is on earth







CHORUS (repeat/fade