[Verse 1: Scarface]
Ghetto n***as remain violent while the killers remain silent
N***as strapped with 45's and ain't smiling
And I'm driving to a place they're all warrin'
The lake we build houses but its the hood we call home
In the ghetto the only place a motherfucker will keep it real
We focused on the dollar bill, still
The outsiders tend to disrespect the place
Where n***as do they struggling die with a straight face
Surviving, under conditions demons died in
You can run it but can't hide it so step aside
Its the n***a that makes music for the streets
Cause I love this motherfucker like pussy with no sheets
Cause its deep
Some n***as make it out the neighborhood and won't surface
And let the money make them nervous, what's the purpose?
A motherfucker sitting on fat
Who done came up in the hood but he can't come back
Fuck that, I remain in the street game frame
On a mission to maintain me and take aim
In position to let my opposition know my life
Cause off in these streets I keep it real but what's right?
Surviving, sitting on a key doing business on a beeper
I'm sinking in this motherfucker deeper
Fear the reaper that no man born or woman harm me
Fuck being a n***a in your army; though I'm a killer
Enter the ghetto so that you can see
What I mean when I say I love this cause it loves me
Let it be, stop looking at this motherfucker strange
And talking 'bout a motherfucking change
This is for my thug n***as
[Chorus: Master P]
This one for my homies and my thug n***as (uuuuugh)
This one for my homies and my thug n***as (uuuuugh)
This one for my homies and my thug n***as (uuuuugh)
This one for my homies and my thug n***as (uuuuugh)
This one for my homies and my thug n***as (uuuuugh)
This one for my homies and my thug n***as (uuuuugh)

[Verse 2: Master P]
'Face, imagine us working at McDonald's
To me and you, selling fucking, tapes to the Bahamas
Gold slug, a car full of thug n***as
Twenty inch wheels candy paint so we drug dealers
No Limit soldiers to the fullest
See I was raised on red beans the size of some bullets, huh
We ghetto n***as can't be stopped
Got me mixing up dope with little J down at Rap-A-Lot
My phone tapped the feds on my tail
Got me paying luxury taxes on everything I build
True to the ghetto that's my life
You see that house on the lake its for the kids and the wife
You can test me if you wanna
Cause I be dumping n***as off from New Orleans to California
Rowdy like a hurricane (uuuuuugh)
Independent, black owned got 'em hooked on this cocaine
You used to see CEO’s in suits and ties
But we young n***as in tennis shoes and diamonds
Executive street millionaires
N***as gonna be bout it bout till we gray in the wheel chair
(Chorus: Master P]
This one for my homies and my thug n***as (uuuuugh)
This one for my homies and my thug n***as (uuuuugh)
This one for my homies and my thug n***as (uuuuugh)
This one for my homies and my thug n***as (uuuuugh)
This one for my homies and my thug n***as (uuuuugh)
This one for my homies and my thug n***as (uuuuugh)

[Verse 3: Doracell]
It's alive, and I'mma be tha muhfuckin' one
Make these n***as want some
Here I come
Da Last Don
N***as steady claiming this
Tatted on my wrist since 86
What tha fuck?
I'm sitting in my cell block stuck
Listening to this shit my radio did
Shit, gotta change the situation
Write a letta to the warden mothafuck all this time wasting
Chasin' n***as wit my occupation
Clean across the nation
Lookin' for two-facin
The gangsta, the killa, and the dope-dealer all in one
Now past me my muthafuckin' gun
N***as feelin' they invincible
Til' they dealin' wit tha muthafuckin' principle
Doracell n***a
I ain't scared cause 2Pac got killed
I'm on tilt
Feelin' the muthafuckin' guilt
Thug N***a