gated community gangsta

Walking the streets with my dreams
hands in my pockets, not a day past fourteen
Head high, jeans low
throw in the Ipod and I’m good to go
Suburbia is my home but I wish it was the ghetto
for in my MTV mind the ghetto makes sense
the native land of chrome, parties and rhymes by fitty cent
Buying the lie
not realizing worlds collide
When the cameras stop rolling
that for all the glamour - the ghetto they ain’t showing
So walk those suburban streets
cologne soaked and collar popped
for if you only knew you would surely be shocked
by the truth – food stamps, gunshots and incomes that are low
but walk those streets kid in your gated community
and tell yourself that the blowout and the cig makes you good to go