Intro:
Is poverty the epitome of unhappiness?
I never was poor, but I can tell you this
Being wealthy, ain’t all it’s cracked up to be
Sure, there’s hardly a worry about money
But little is real with material
No need to steal, but it's hard to feel
And even harder to tell who’s truly true to you until your burial
A wise woman once told me, “A miracle is much easier to see in the eyes of the needy”
Because the will for the need will always be, see.
That’s why, this is…
Chorus 1:
This is not another, ghetto song
Is this not another ghetto song?
This is not another ghetto song
Is this not another ghetto song?
Is this not another ghetto song?
This is not another, ghetto song
Is this not another ghetto song?
This is not another ghetto song
Is this?
Verse 1:
The place where I’m from is not a slum or a ghetto
It’s a grassy green meadow where the atmosphere’s mellow
With sunny warm shadows and friendly hellos
A place with white picket fences and expensive model homes
Suburbia, California: where the money grows on trees
Where everyone in the world wants to come gather leaves
There’s police on every block and a low rate of crime
Consumers flock in an oblivious, blind state of mind
It’s still safe to leave your car unlocked at night
I swear, where I've never heard gunshots in my life
It's not right, kids grow up in a bubble unaware
Of trouble elsewhere, never had to struggle, know it and don’t care
It's where conservative views prosper and soak up votes
Where the media creates masses of ignorant clones
Where I write poems in hopes of salvation someday
For the souls of these hopeless innocents, I pray
Where the guilt lies the thickest, but the conscience is clean
Where the only chronic is green and kids jock the mainstream
Young kids never had a job and driving brand new cars
While Mexicans do cheap labor and work hard
The fakest people you’ll ever meet spread word in the wind
Pretend to be your friend and will do it again
Surrounded by mental slaves, I thank God I was blessed
With the knowledge to preserve my life for righteousness.
Chorus 2:
Is this not another ghetto song?
This is not another ghetto song
Is this not another ghetto song?
This is not another, ghetto song
This is not another, ghetto song
Is this not another ghetto song?
This is not another ghetto song
Is this not another ghetto song?
This is..
Verse 2:
Radicalifornia, my birthplace and residence
Of everywhere in the world it takes precedence
Berkeley, right next to Oak-town
If there’s a righteous movement, that's where it goes down
Oakland's known for ghettos, Raiders, and A's
Frisco's known for lesbos, flamers, and gays
But still, I love the city of the hills
The smell of ocean and smog, the freezing wind chills
Silicon Valley, suburban sprawl, represent
Tri-Valley, lurking in the small town of Pleasanton
That's where my roots soaked water and grew
Like those coastal redwoods, circa Santa Cruz
Not to mention, the Mexican influence
And the ganja’s smells so nice, who the hell lights incense?
It makes sense, why everyone wants to live here
And it's grown lots, I recall way back in my fifth year
My town was tiny, open space and some wilderness
That was nineteen-ninety, now everyone's made their pilgrimage
Businesses convince employees to relocate with a salary increase
But the cost of living will never let the rest in peace
Face the harsh reality that reality is harsh
If you don’t like the humidity you can evacuate the marsh
But when life gives you lemons, make lemonade
That’s why I could never flee my city and live as a renegade.
Chorus 3:
This is not another ghetto song
Is this not another ghetto song?
Is this not another ghetto song, song?
This is not another ghetto song.
Verse 3:
If there's one thing I ever learned, it’s that somebody's always got it worse
I’m in the valley, you’re in the alley, but I’m wondering who’s in the hearse
And it hurts because I had advantages and then some
But realize you can't buy some things, even with the fat income
A truth commonly doubted, “give me a million dollars”
I'ma live happily without it, that's the words of a true scholar
And I mean it true, because knowledge is power
Not knowledge as in school, colleges only consume my hours
Yeah, you could spend four years in the prime of life
To guarantee you a career and maybe there you’ll meet a wife
And you could settle down with three and a half kids, eatin’ apple pie
Work a nine-to-five every day until, hopefully, you happily die
But not I, I’ve seen my parents try to live that lie
That’s why my whole goal is to have an afterlife
That’s something to work towards that’s much, much greater
And nothing I was born with leans those odds in my favor
So no, I'm not from a ghetto, and that doesn't make me better
I suggest you let it go, but you can hate me if it makes you feel better
Because regardless, I will still keep it real
Whether or not you admit how my rap made you feel.
