They Say

Growing up I was a knucklehead

Boy you never listen to me, that's what my mama said

I'm from the projects, I ain't never had shit

Me and my older brother, we had to share a mattress

No heat, no lights, had to keep them candles lit

My daddy left me at eight, in and out my life and shit

Gang bangers, dope dealers replaced my father

Neighborhood hustlers taught me to get them dollars

That's when I became a problem, product of my environment

It's hard to grow up to be a doctor or a fireman

when you constantly seeing that G-ride tires screeching

and them shots firing all the time, it happens frequently

The hood inspired him, to be a G

I bled for the game, did it all for the letter B

The big homie gave me the name Jay Rock

This ain't no rap gimmick, this a real life story of Watts living, nigga

You can take, me out the hood

But you can't take the hood out me

And that's the way that it will forever be

And I can't help it, I'm gutter

Why should I change now

when all my life I've been gang banged out?

That project shit run deep in my veins now

And I can't help it

Ooh, my Lord knows that I can't help it

Let me take you on a detour, east side Watts

Niggas who go in projects

Follow me home to my black and white apartments

Police roll through with caution, scared to death

The homies got tats across them

Capital B.H. over they necks, since birth banging the set

Even hoes banging the set

Some ain't, but most is hood rats, they looking for the buck

Them trash cans lay in the street, ghetto technique for drive-bys

For the low them five dollars will get you high

Dice games, YGs, fist fights

Six-fo's, El Co's, G-rides and mini-bikes

Might see a couple of zombies late night

Off what? Off pipe

Membrane dead right, no lie

Something in the bushes, either the AK or the .45, no lie

Raised in the ghetto with rats and roaches

Smokers on porches getting high off yola

It's colder north, but my city's the coldest

Where we ain't promised to see the morning, nigga

You could take me out the hood, but the hood will never leave me

I'm still banging, I'm still hanging

The only difference is I'm not slanging, nickels and dimes

More like slanging these rap lines

Verses of truth, when I step in the booth

Niggas know I pour my soul for the struggling youth

For that fatherless son who needed love, so he ran with a crew

Grew up before his older brother did, gin and juice

replaced the pain I knew, carrying thangs to school

Them niggas was tripping, I wasn't banging the blue

But they had to respect me, I never ran from who?

Nobody, put my faith in God

It's amazing how I overcame them odds

On my momma, this past year, my life has slightly been revised

But notice I said slightly

cause me being absent from where I came from, that's unlikely nigga