Band: Master P Album: Mp Da Last Don Song: Dear Mr. President ((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 --- http://www.lyricsdot.com/ - 95000+ lyrics from 10000+ bands online