Lyrics:
the peace
Without a gun
From Abilene down to Galveston
When he rode by the general store
People crowded through the door
To see the legend and the man called
real
Soul back to the game
John Legend on the backgrounds by the way
Let's go
From what I hear Kanye is
Killing the game very bad
My girl rocking
John Henry was just a little bitty boy
No bigger than the palm of your hand
His mammy looked down at John Henry and say
Johnny you're gonna be
love
And street passion, every ghetto needs a thug mansion
Dear momma don't cry, your baby boy's doing good
Tell the homies I'm in heaven and they
love
And street passion, every ghetto needs a thug mansion
Dear momma don't cry, your baby boy's doing good
Tell the homies I'm in heaven and they
When John Henry was a little bitty boy
He picked up a hammer in his hand
Looked up at his mama and smilingly said
I want to be a steel drivin' man
put on stilettos
Not a hood nigga just a little bit ghetto
God pull strings way better than Gipedo
Real Gold shine no sterling medal
The way I achieve
When John Henry was just a little bitty boy no bigger than the palm of your hand
His mommy looked down at John Henry and say
Well Johnny you're gonna
the dirt
Ain't no love in new orleans,
All the way to richmond, california
Niggaz livin for ghetto dreams
And the ghetto get so crazy
I seen a little bitty
a bus, nigga
Mionetto, the Chef is on ill levels
Be the custom ill bezel, we get down
All the hills meddle
Real rebels that run through the real ghettos
as th little boss hog in the hood
Boy in my hood I'm a superstar
Niggas in th past try t hold a nigga down
But I put in my work and checked it checked
the station to channel live
That underground hard-core sound who said it'd die
'Cause if it is me and my nine's
The first to ride
For my niggas
Live by
the station to channel live
That underground hard-core sound who said it'd die
'Cause if it is me and my nine's
The first to ride
For my niggas
Live by
catch you in traffic
20-round clip, curved magazine
And you could leave the Earth over small, little things
John Gotti hit the cake, go bada bing
And you
catch you in traffic
20-round clip, curved magazine
And you could leave the Earth over small, little things
John Gotti hit the cake, go bada bing
And you
your health, little bulletproofs get felt
Who mind ready, for this big dawg who hold a nine steady
I'm John Blazin' when you see the arms raisin'
tripping
And all these bluestrips you would think a youngin cripping
I be flooding not dripping boy I'm something different
Aye call me john legend cause I'm
Little Ghetto Boy
Hustling in these ghetto streets
What u Gonna do when they pull up
And make you face responsibility
Sipping on Lean in A stolen
boy from the ghetto
I dey hustle dey by day
I dey try make I get money
As a little boy from ghetto
Me I dey hustle dey by day oo
To make this
As little boy from the ghetto
I dey hustle dey by day
I dey try make I get money
As a little boy from ghetto
Me I dey hustle dey by day oo
To make this
As little boy from the ghetto
I dey hustle dey by day
I dey try make I get money
As a little boy from ghetto
Me I dey hustle dey by day oo
To make
it?)
Lending outfits all in the bus cause none of us could
See a summer without trips (none of us can see it)
Mad hoops so the little boys might
John Roy was a boy I knew
Since he was 3 and I was two
Grew up two little houses down from me
The only bad apples on our family tree
Kinda
white , marshmellow
Boujetto? Boujetto boujetto boujetto boujetto
I’m ghetto I’m bouji I’m bouji I’m ghetto
Jamican boy, when you gon’ tell them boys
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