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lirik lagu coolio - on my way to harlem

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i know a place where the trees don’t grow
just another place where n-gg-z live low
i know a place where life is f-cked up
make a wrong move and your -ss get stuck up

time ain’t nothin’ but a frame of mind
and life is like a mountain or a steep -ss climb
i’ve been lookin’ for a place to leave
the only free place is inside of me

so let’s take a trip, and you don’t need a grip
but you better be equipped ’cause it might be some sh-t
african-american, nothin’ but a n-gg-
had our fingers on the trigger, but i pulled mine quicker

i know a place where there ain’t no calm and
you better stay away if you’re soft like charmin’
south central, los angeles, watts, and compton
a n-gg- on the west coast on his way to harlem

now it’s time to step into the light
put up your dukes, there’s gonna be a fight
and when it’s time to fight, you better fight right
’cause if it don’t fight right, out goes the light

take a close look at what i’m freakin’ on
n-gg-z think i’m tweekin’, but i’m speakin’ on
subject matter, data
information that i gather through my travels

’cause the hardest of the hard, hit hardcore killer
can’t stop the slug of a nine millimeter
everybody thinks they know, but they know not
if they haven’t caught a cap on the block

so shine up your boots and pick up the pieces
grab a fresh pair of khakis with the sharp -ss creases
ring the alarm, here comes the storm
i got a firearm on my way to harlem

i know a place where the sun don’t shine
everybody is a victim of neighborhood crime
i know a place where n-gg-z walk the line
one false step and they must do time

since i’m in the same boat i must stay afloat
and sing every note from the quotes that they wrote
so, i look into the past and walk the path of the greats
so i wont make the same mistakes that sealed my ancestors fates

if i had to be a slave i’d rather be in my grave
if i get in how many lives could i save?
one, two, three, a hundred, a thousand
my heart is poundin’, the devil keeps soundin’

but he don’t want my money, he wants my soul
so i reach like a tree, and like a weed i grow
my stomach is full, but my mind is starvin’
rollin’ in a g ride on my way to harlem


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