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]