What's Wrong

[Verse one: Halla] Halla, listen My cousin got 15, he was only 18 Cops hopping out like they the A-Team Chilly in the projects, picturing that rock Same old old head sitting on the block I was wild as a ghetto child Mean mugging out, used to had a kool-aid smile Tuesday night, we came up to the ring with the heaters Fight broke out they let it out on tweeters So momma say, Halla, take care of your kids And never do dirt and business where you live Stress give niggers more reasons to get high And hit the thing once and swear to god they could fly, bye I'm off to the turf if they let me He game bring the hood like the set going to accept me It's all in the day of the life from where I'm from I'm not a statistic, cause I made twenty-one [Hook] What's wrong, What's wrong What's wrong, What's wrong I think I need to ask somebody I need to ask my uncle Marvin What's wrong, What's wrong What's wrong, What's wrong I need to ask somebody [Verse two: Black Nicc] Let's speak for the hood, baby Homies are out here crying My granny telling me I need to go to church The homies in the hood telling me to do dirt It ain't shit changed, yo, we in the same game It's hard to get a job when you live with cocaine My brother is a gangster, my uncle is a banger Living in the projects, looking out for danger Crookedwith a hanger you can see it locking up Yeah, the fierce on my ass they don't want to see me up I hear the streets talking, we all need help Keep some real niggers with you cause it's hard by yourself I'm speaking for the hood, yeah, I'm straight off the block Where it's hard to get sleep, you hear them gun shots In the studio apartment, your baby's still starving What the fuck is going on, ask uncle Marvin The homies in the hood telling me to do dirt But my granny telling me, you should go to church (church) [Hook] [Verse three: Warren G] We used to steal fifths, put on our big brother clothes Slide up to king park and try to mack some hoes Took one to knew us, yeah that was my home When the sheriff killed my home boy, t-bone, Tyrone Hanging with the D boys, chilling with the crooks Killing the game with ? and Ronnie Brooks We used to run shit up under that bridge Smoking coochy and brig, that's how we lived Me fruity baby pop, rowdy little kids Things changed nowadays you're some rowdy little kids Up about the park when we heard that lit (pop pop pop) And the next thing you know, Louis lost his leg Now we ducking the police and dodging the feds Fuck hustling, I'd rather get a job instead Fuck struggling, I can make money, doing these songs Cause your closest home boy, would do you wrong [Hook]