Welcome 2 My Block (Clinton Sparks RMX)

Lyrics

[Chorus: Damian Marley & 2Pac] Out in the street (2Pac!), they call it murder On my block... Out in the street, they call it murder [Verse 1: 2Pac] They got a nigga shedding tears, reminiscin' on my past fears 'Cause shit was hectic for me last year It appears that I've been marked for death My heartless breath, the underlying cause of my arrest My life is stressed, and no rest forever weary My eyes stay teary for all the brothers that are buried in the cemetery Shit's scary, our black on black crime legendary But at times unnecessary, I'm gettin' worried Teardrops and closed caskets, the three strikes law is drastic And certain death for us ghetto bastards What can we do when we're arrested, but open fire Life in the pen' ain't for me, 'cause I'd rather die But don't cry through your despair I wonder if the Lord still cares, for us niggas on welfare And who cares if we survive The only time they notice a nigga is when he clutchin' on a four-five My neighborhood ain't the same 'Cause all the little babies goin' crazy and they sufferin' in the game And I swear it's like a trap But I ain't given up on the hood it's all good when I go back [Chorus: Damian Marley & 2Pac] Out in the street, they call it murder On my block... Out in the street, they call it murder (Haha, that's how you do that shit) [Verse 2: Nas] Hot like 95 Fahrenheit On a summer night, tight spot where bodies rot Rats drink from water drops in the streets (uh huh) Little kids, scared cops with red dots Philosophical gangsta, where violent priors Goin' back like black and white TV's with pliers Leanin' on broke down cars with flat tires Flash iron on anybody tryin' on the blocks I'm supplyin' on Madicon, my peeps, tie balloons up Then swallow 'em in the penal, got goons, lots of 'em Cops see them and run, don't want no drama Certain parts of the streets, the beast don't want a part of Martyr, hood haunted like the Dakota Where John Lennon was shot up, but he sang for peace He begged for freedom, hanged with wild Jamicians From Kingston, who drink Irish Moss Listenin' to Peter Winston, Machintosh Lightning hits the top of the church steeple When I'm writin', semi-(automatic) no hyphen [Chorus: Damian Marley & 2Pac] Out in the street, they call it murder On my block... Out in the street, they call it murder (Wassup nigga) [Verse 3: Scarface] On my block, we duck the nigga haters and the cops Fuck a hotrod, we race Impalas, chromed, out On my block, it ain't no different than the next block Ya get drunk and pass out, and they pack ya to the house And when you wake up on the couch you going right back at it On my block when ya that fucked up they laugh at it On my block, it's just another day in the heart Of the Southside of Houston Texas, making your mark On my block, we're cuing all the time, playing dominoes Keep the Swishers sweet down until my Mama goes Back inside ,, then we can fire Pass it around a few times to get high Everyday it's been the same old thang on my block You either working or you slanging cocaine on my block You had to hustle, cause that's how we was raised on my block And you stayed on your hop until you made you a knot On my block