Turk & Christina & Big Tymers
Turk
Turk & Hot Boys & Mack 10
Turk
Turk & Mikkey Halsted & Christina
Turk
Turk & Mannie Fresh
Turk
Turk
Turk & Mannie Fresh
Turk
Turk & Lil Wayne
Turk & & Birdman
Turk
Turk & B.G. & Mikkey Halsted
[Mickey]
I ain't nothin but a hustler, I raised like that
Pumpin gas or pumpin crack, we was paid like that
Ol' G's taught us game, we was made like that
Cross the family, ya get sprayed wit a mac, laid flat
My uncle was sellin crack, my father was smokin
Me and brother didn't like the way my mother was copin
So we promised to get my momma out
Betta car, betta house
And if daddy ain't gettin shit togetha, fuck it, a betta spouse
I know what this ghetto bout, I live that life
No heat, no light at the crib at night
Stay strapped, gat attached next to my ribs at night
Cause them fiends'll try to steal yo life
Muthafucka this Chicago
Everything I live for, I die for
Cash Money the click I'll ride for
Yeah, they showed me love when them label wasn't fuckin wit me
Now the whole workld in love wit Mickey
Cash Money Millionaires nigga
[Hook: Turk]
Growing up was hard in them project bricks
I ain't gone even lie dawg I ain't neva had shit
It was hard dawg wit out a father figure
Give it up to my mom cuz she stood tall nigga
[Christina]
Nigga I'm from city where niggas gang bang and shit
Up on the corner drinkin henny, tryna hang and shit
I tote em quick and make chickens get over
Tha first bitch in my gone get knocked the fuck over
Shit I'm not playin, them bullets gone start sprayin
Start prayin, cuz gats gone start sprayin
Stop panicin, stayin calm to I bomb out this ghetto
Leg, back, arms, ice up to the elbow
Rock Fenni, bitches envy me up in the ghetto
Slimmy's pack simmy's, squeeze 50 in the ghetto
Tote Gucchi coats, toast toast in they thoart
Hit the roach, don't smoke, it'll have you senseless in the ghetto
Cuz niggas will beat you senseless in the ghetto
I'm glad I moved my mom to the ponds, out the palms of the ghetto
True divas neva settle for the ghetto
Come on, and that's real Cash Money nigga
[Hook]
[Turk]
Three sons and a momma, growin up was hard
Couldn't keep up wit the Jones, cuz we didn't have funds
In the summer it was hot, cuz we didn't have air
Daddy wasn't even around like he didn't even care
I ain't gon' lie, sometimes I used to get pissed off
At my momma like it was her fault but it wasn't at all
Used to keep a pair of tennis for at least six months
When they got scuffed up, we just patched 'em up
Had to be inside early, yeah I punched the clock
Didn't have no telephone or no cable box
Just my momma and my brother gettin how we live
One thing fa sho dawg we kept a meal
Livin on welfare and my momma's pray
Wishin that one day we gone get outta this hell
Thinkin to myself this shit all fucked up
Times was heard for me dawg growin up
[Hook]
Growing Up was written by Turk.
Growing Up was produced by Mannie Fresh.