You call it the ghetto, while we called it home. In neutrel colors on the streets we roamed.
While it became a segregated zone. We kept our own personalities and figured to each his own
Never had to take sides just so we wouldn’t feel alone. We managed to stay different than what was being cloned.
Growing up in the cities we're from it seemed that gangs was the only way to get recognized.
So we had to improvise. And become something derived, from a creative state of mind.
Refusing to be consumed by what they wanted to design. Staying refined.
We chose to be a different kind. We had to realign, to stay away from crossing that line.
We stayed behind. And took the time, to develop a way to confine.
Our path of not engaging in crime.
We never threw a sign,
to represent who we were
or where we were from.
The slum,
of Cali is where we represented,
but we presented,
something above,
what people thought we'd become.
We accomplished, we overcame.
None of us were the same
We stayed eccentric through it all. Always there to catch another before the fall
Cause we knew we were from the school of hard knocks
Even if we didn't push rocks. pack glocks. or roll in flocks
When we rolled the city blocks. And there wasn't a title for what we were
Based on one love and trust. we conformed to be just us…
