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2-Pac (Tupac Shakur) with Elton John “Ghetto Gospel”. Uhh, hit ‘em with a lil' ghetto gospel Those who wish to follow me (My ghetto gospel) I welcome with my hands And the red sun sinks at last into the hills of gold And peace to this young warrior without the sound of guns.
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Uhh, hit ‘em with a lil' ghetto gospelThose who wish to follow me(My ghetto gospel)I welcome with my handsAnd the red sun sinks at lastinto the hills of goldAnd peace to this young warriorwithout the sound of guns
If I could recollect before my hood dayzI'd sit and reminisce, nigga and bliss on that good dayzI stop and stare at the younger,my heart goes to 'em,they tested, it was stressed that fate underIn our days, things changedEveryone's ashamed to the youthcuz the truth looks strangeAnd for me it's the worst, we left them a world that's cursed,and it hurts
Cuz any day they'll push the buttonand yall condemned like Malcolm xand Bobby Hunton, died for nothinDon't them let me get teary,the world looks drearybut when you wipe your eyes, see it clearly,there's no need for you to fear meIf you take the time to hear me,maybe you can learn to cheer meIt ain’t about black or white, cuz we're humanI hope you see the light before its ruined,My ghetto gospel
Those who wish to follow me(My ghetto gospel)I welcome with my handsAnd the red sun sinks at lastinto the hills of goldAnd peace to this young warriorwithout the sound of guns
Tell me do you see that old lady aint it sadLiving out a bag,but she's glad for the little things she has And over there there's a lady,crack got her crazyGuess she's given birth to a babyI don't trip and let it fade me,from outta the frying panWe jump into another form of slavery
Even now I get discouragedWonder if they take it all back while I still keep the courageI refuse to be a role modelI set goals, take control,drink out my own bottleI make mistakes, I learn from everyoneAnd when its said and doneI bet this Brotha be a better oneIf I upset you, don't stress
Never forget, that God hasn't finished with me yetI feel his hand on my brainWhen I write rhymes, I go blind,and let the lord do his thangBut am I less holyCuz I choose to puff a blunt and drink a beer with my homiesBefore we find world peaceWe gotta find peace in that war on the streets My ghetto gospel
Those who wish to follow me(My ghetto gospel)I welcome with my handsAnd the red sun sinks at lastinto the hills of goldAnd peace to this young warriorwithout the sound of gunsLord can you hear me speakTo pay the price of being hell bound...