Lupe Fiasco Steady Mobbin' Lyrics
            [Lupe talking:]
            You know I had to do it, man. It wouldn'ta been right if I didn't. You seen it? You seen the show last night on TV? You seen n____'s rims man? You seen the new Jordans man? You see her a__ yo? Yeah, yeah, that's crazy.
        
            [Singing:]
            Seein' with my ghetto eyes
            I walkeded with my ghetto feet
            I talkeded with my ghetto speech
            I'm copasetic, I won't let it bring me down
            Bring me down...
        
            I say it's enstilled
            As I peep from beneath the t__led brim of my pinwheel
            Steady mobbin', heavy problems
            Genocide resynthesize to violence, makes it hard to sympathize
            Harden, individuals whose feelings is miniscule
            Soon become criminals if you dark-skinned
            And you was raised in a project apartment
            Public Aid made it that your father couldn't stay
            He had to part then, left with only a mother
            The family structure suffers
            He will soon cling to hustlers, as his guardians
            He still a boy, needs to fill a void, marchin'
            Up the block up to no good, sellin' in the wrong hood
            He was taken down by a marksmen
            At his wake, 8th Grade Graduation picture
            Last words: Don't let the habitation get ya
            Pardoned, Lord have mercy on the fallen
            Amen, feel like I'm hardened
            Got the harbinger for the coming of the carpenter
            Til then, I got some big fish to fry like Marlins
            Part n____s, steady mobbin'
        
            [Chorus:]
            I've got some questions to ask, and I'm waitin' on some answers
            Like, Why do the good die young? Why ain't there no cure for cancer?
            Won't let the streets dicatate my glory
            Cuz it's something out there for me
            But I'ma flee my territory
            So I won't end up, just a ghetto story
            Just a ghetto story, just a ghetto story
            Just a ghetto story, just a ghetto story
        
            And I try to see past it
            Through the down-roll window on the driver side of my Caprice Classic
            Steady mobbin', corner store traffic
            i.e. dope fiends, hookers and teens with alcohol IVs
            I see, plastic, cups is a nickel, 50 cent for Dutch Masters
            My big brother's Pelle Pel' lingers of a fargone weed smoke
            Lookin' for greener pastures, pasturized 2% for $2.19
            You can get 2 quarts, there's also a sale on Newports
            A seperate line for Lotto, b__py face, add a model
            Huggin' a bottle, salt and sour Jays, and blueberry Hugs
            Shorties consider a meal, been my feel for it
            Sweatin' for a pair of Air Jordans they would steal for
            And a gold chain 4 fiends would knife, wild and kill yours
            There's nothing too promising on our billboards
            Drink Tanqueray, eat KFC, come abort your child
            Buy Nikes, which makes it highly unlikely that we gon' fight, G
            Steady mobbin'
        
            [Chorus:]
            I've got some questions to ask, and I'm waitin' on some answers
            Like, Why do the good die young? Why ain't there no cure for cancer?
            Won't let the streets dicatate my glory
            Cuz it's something out there for me
            But I'ma flee my territory
            So I won't end up, just a ghetto story
            Just a ghetto story, just a ghetto story
            Just a ghetto story, just a ghetto story
        
            And I'm still on
            As I stroll down the same street so many like me once before, were killed on
            Steady mobbin', thinkin' bout the Black Panthers
            And the babies that were born in the late '80s
            That now have babies that lack Pampers
            No Kwaanzas and they lack Santas
            And the father who thinks shoe-shopping is the answer
            Skipped out on parenthood classes so she don't know how to handle her
            And never learned from her grandmother
            One day got hot, couldn't take it, dropped her in a vacant lot
            Album of Life, now condensed into a sampler
            See the shapes these little girls is gettin'?
            Somethin' say the steroids in the chicken is the cause of the thickening in the young women
            Livid, see some shorties playin' Cops & Robbers, livin'
            Bittersweet thoughts is what I had for them
            I can picture colder feelin' Police chasin' after them
            Catchin' up to, friskin' and askin' them
            Where the packs at? Who yo' cheif is? Where the straps at?
            Am I thinking too hard? Or perhaps that's reality
            In a project mentality, but through it all
            I hope we learn more than how to be w____s and how to move a ball
            Steady mobbin'
        
            [Chorus:]
            I've got some questions to ask, and I'm waitin' on some answers
            Like, Why do the good die young? Why ain't there no cure for cancer?
            Won't let the streets dicatate my glory
            Cuz it's something out there for me
            But I'ma flee my territory
            So I won't end up, just a ghetto story
            Just a ghetto story, just a ghetto story
            Just a ghetto story, just a ghetto story
        
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