on my way to harlem

Coolio

Verse 1:
I know a place where the trees don?t grow
Just another place where niggaz live low
I know a place where life is fucked up
Make a wrong move and your ass get stuck up
Time ain?t nothin but a frame of mind
And life is like a mountain or a steep ass climb
I?ve been lookin for a place to leave
The only free place is inside of me
So let?s take a trip, and you don?t need a grip
But you better be equipped cause it might be some shit
African-american, nothin but a nigga
Had our fingers on the trigger, but I pulled mine quicker
I know a place where there ain?t no calm and
You better stay away if you?re soft like charmin
South central, los angeles, watts, and compton
A nigga on the west coast on his way to harlem

Verse 2:

Now it?s time to step into the light (light)
Put up your dukes, there?s gonna be a fight (fight)
And when it?s time to fight, you better fight right
Cause if it don?t fight right, out goes the light
Take a close look at what I?m freakin on
Niggaz think I?m tweekin, but I?m speakin on
Subject matter, data
Information that I gather
Through my travels
Cause the hardest of the hard, hit hardcore killer
Can?t stop the slug of a nine millimeter
Everybody thinks they know, but they know not
If they haven?t caught a cap on the block *gunshot*
So shine up your boots and pick up the pieces
Grab a fresh pair of khakis with the sharp ass creases
Ring the alarm, here comes the storm
I got a firearm on my way to harlem

Verse 3:

I know a place where the sun don?t shine
Everybody is a victim of neighborhood crime
I know a place where niggaz walk the line
One false step and they must do time
Since I?m in the same boat
I must stay afloat
And sing every note
From the quotes that they wrote
So, I look into the past and walk the path of the greats
So I wont make the same mistakes that sealed my ancestors fates
If I had to be a slave I?d rather be in my grave
If I get in how many lives could I save?
One, two, three, a hundred, a thousand
My heart is poundin, the devil keeps soundin
But he don?t want my money, he wants my soul
So I reach like a tree, and like a weed I grow
My stomach is full, but my mind is starvin
Rollin in a g ride on my way to harlem