Sun Don't Shine

[Freeway] Yeah...for my street niggas [Hook - girl singing (Oschino)] The sun never shines in the ghetto It always rains in the hood Heavy metals ring in the ghetto Everybody moves 'caine in the hood (everybody move them things) This for my niggas who stay in the ghetto (to my niggas stay in the ghetto) It's lots of shine in the ghetto Too many haters in the hood (too hard, niggas be hatin) Gotta watch what you doin The ghetto only cop black shine in the hood (Freeway, Young Gunz) This for my niggas who thug like street lights in the ghetto (Oschino) [Verse One: Oschino] Yo we gotta, hollow the gat, bottle the smack When the cops pull up we gotta swallow the crack All my niggas did time like Geronimo Pratt See the Benz like damn, what model is that Oschino, the nigga who was locked in a cage Niggas clockin my style like flavor flave Fuck gettin the Source Award, or gettin Five Mics I'm happy just gettin my daughter a pink bike A roof over her head and some Barbie skates It's plenty of nights man, I hardly ate I'm from where the summers dangerous, the winters is cold And bitches pop Van X's like birth control I got bitches on death row, stuck with a cell number So close to Jesus they got his cell number The ghetto is trife, this is my life How many rappers you know been down for murder twice? [Verse Two: Neef] Yo what up wit ch'all niggas What it look like? Throw it in the pot, see if the shit cook right We can get it down, see if it bubble white or brown Take it to the town and break my youngin's down It's doin good, business is lookin fine Get 'em for 20, but maybe 29 Youngin out on his grind, youngin poppin 'em nine's I'm a juvenile delinquent, youngin was doin time Cause Judge Reynold's left it up to my mom (what else?) And I was thinkin like, damn ain't that crazy? But mom duke's can't live without her baaaby I'm back home, thrity eight strong, out on my own Thinkin, get it wit chrome Fuck makin them songs, but my mind right now And this rap shit be my grind right now (now...now...) [Hook - girl singing] The sun never shines in the ghetto It always rains in the hood Heavy metals ring in the ghetto Everybody moves Cain in the hood This for my niggas who stay in the ghetto It's lots of shine in the ghetto Too many haters in the hood Gotta watch what you doin The ghetto only cop black shine in the hood This for my niggas who thug like street lights in the ghetto [Verse Three: Young Chris] You wanna shit on? I'm on your boy like the narc's on 'em You ever heard a nigga's lawyer scared to talk for him? Creep in the dark on him, the led bark on him I'm on his head til the Fed's spread chalk for him That's how we do it dawg, these the last days Yeah I had my bad days, I been through it ch'all But I grew back (grew back) Got my groove back (groove back) That's how we do in trainin, cockin them two's back Same dudes namin', givin up news Gettin up on the stand, endin up on the news It's fucked up what that pressure'll do And you don't wanna fuck up when they questionin you Lecturin you, tryin to get shit up outta you Crucial beatdowns til the bitch come up outta you Cris come up outta you, dough that ain't right to do Put that dough and get your body viewed [Verse Four: Freeway] Let me get five for twenty, or seven for thrity That shit that you hear in the ghetto They don't care in the hood Cop four twenties and seven thirties Then niggas disappear from the ghetto Get snatched from the hood Feds grab 'em, and some get put in the dirt Some live in grime, good with the work Stick up kids get hit with the nine But the funeral parlor good with embalming fluid Good with the hearst Some niggas don't even grind But still make a stack every other night, good with the dice So it don't even matter, get hungry in the hood Miss Low is sharp with the platters, good with the rice And her daughter's just like her Shootouts, they stash my guns, and I got away good with the knifes The end of the nights, stash my ones Cause I'm good with the rocks, the smokers good with pipes [Hook]