Check it It's all real in the nine-fo' Shorties kaught up in the system Just close your eyes Picture a ghetto break it down Back in the days I was livin' swell see I was ridin' bikes, rollerskatin' and playin' skelzies But nowadays shit is different Little kids be riffin' the motherfuckers won't listen Instead of shootin' tops they shoot glocks They point em at cops and that's the way they get props Yo, they do what they want to Fuck a nine to five, they makin' G's on the corner Material things is what they want to scoop They can't get shit like that, workin' for no Summer Youth They got clients, they livin' like giants They got the whole drug shit to a science They got, jewels and beepers, hundred dollar sneakers Lexus Coupes; windows down boomin' the speakers They got, bitches in flavors, probably fuckin' your neighbor C'mon they got shit under control like the mayor Man, you see the news today So how you gonna tell these little kids that school's the way? Yo it ain't about I.Q.; some of these kids Are makin' more than doctors, and didn't finish high school Teenagers are caught up in the system And God forbid if you front on em or try to diss 'em They got everything, from nines to shotguns And they'll put two in your chest and lounge til the cops come If you ain't from the ghetto this is undercover But in ninety-four, shit is real like a motherfucker Tryin' to strive nine-to-five out in the street There's no rain or shine, trying to get ends to meet Fuck the cops they don't obey the law And if you ain't catch on by now, I ain't even tryin' to say no more Shorties be wildin' I don't give a fuck! I'm just a squirrel, that's out to get a nut Get a nine to five What? That shit sucks! And besides, I wouldn't make enough In this time and day, kids get paid in all kinds of ways And get more respect, than niggaz that's three times they age I know a child that's runnin' wild That say fuck playin' tag, he's tryin' to get a hundred thou' So it's hard to find a stable child Kids are watchin' violent movies, or either got cable now And they catch on so quick Bout time they hit sixteen they be on some Nino Brown, G.I. Joe shit When school is out, they just want to lamp The last thing on they mind, is motherfuckin' summer camp And eighty out of a hundred All they want to do is clock dough, scoop bitches and get blunted Kids is strapped, they be packin' shit I seen shorties get iller than villains in some action flick They say times is rough Jack And when you tell em cool out Man they quick to say, "Fuck that!"