Master P - Dear Mr. President(192 visits)

((Posted by: WesleyJr'aol.com))
-What's up man?
~What's up man?
-Shit nigga.
~Times are hard out here nigga, I got this mothafuckin' letter that I wrote
when I was locked up. I want you to read this mothafucker.
-Who you wrote a letta' to? A bitch or somethin'?
~Nah, man, this shit real though, I wrote it to the white house, nigga.
-To the white house?
~Man, check this shit out.
[Master P]
Dear Mr. President i live in the hood
Where people do bad
But say its all good
And my homies slanging and robbing
Caught a misdameanor felonies
We cant survive it
And three strikes niggas out it
But we dont give a fuck cause niggas down here bout it bout it
One nation in god we trust
But then you say Saddam ain't go'n fuck with us
(ugghhhhh)
Now you see how we feel
Niggas set trip, ride and gang bang
Thats how they get killed
You run from the press
We run from killers and jackers
And wear a bullet proof vest
Some say the president like weed and hoes
Down here it's young niggas riding six with o's, got
Terrorist wantin to blow you away,
I got niggas in the ghetto wantin to take my place
You got secret service
Roamin the streets
I got a bunch of No Limit niggas ridin with me
(chorus)
Dear mr. president (mr.president)
My letter to the president, the president
(repeat 2x)
[Mac]
Dear mr president
Mama just lost her job
Daddy just got paid, coming home and he was robbed
Land lord giving us three days to disappear
Santa Clause missed our house this year
You got the white house
Protected by the goverment killers
We got the crack house
Protected by them neighborhood dealers
Opportunity ain't never knocked
And they be locking niggas up for slangin petty rocks
If you could answer my questions I wouldn't stress
That's why a nigga smoke crack, snort coke
And hit the weed when they stress me
Niggas die in the ghetto
Put they face on a shirt
White folks get killed and its a city wide search
Go and holler at a nigga when you need a vote
My 'lil homie got twenty for weed and coke
Nigga cross my heart and hope to die
I'm begging for change but only you can take the tears out my people's eyes
(Chorus) repeat four times
Dear Mr. President
You heard me
We tryin' to unite, we tryin' to make it better, but
Um, we need some help
You know, I got love, but I come from a place
Where most of my people, they ain't watchin'
You know what I'm sayin'?
I mean, drugs and conflict, its a must
There's people hungry out here, they starvin'
Only time will tell when we go to the ghetto, Mr. President
And only God can judge us
But you know what, with all them problems that you goin' through
And tryin' to run a country
I know it must be stressful
But you know what, we feel your pain out here in the hood
We just hope these words reach to you
And you can do something about our pain in the ghetto
P.S. Masta P, da last don, to the realist nigga I know
President, check these mothafuckin' feds off stealin' from the hood
I ain't sayin' all police are crooked
But you know what, there is some good ones out there
Just like record companies
Just cause a nigga on a record company, that don't mean he's sellin' dope
Gang bangin', or killin' mothafuckers
Just remember that, you can't judge every book by its cover
And, uh, I'd die for this shit
No Limit, I love this shit
Like you love the country, Mr. President
This the realist shit I ever wrote, nigga













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