The Arbitrary ChuckJerry

Rap is a genre of music that goes out of its way to explain what life is like for its artists and fans. I don't know of another type of music that has so consistently existed to represent a lifestyle. That being said, there are some rap songs that do that job better than most.

In my opinion the rap song that best represents the genre is "Ghetto Bastard" from Naughty By Nature. The lyrics are biting and concise, the beat behind it is rock solid, and the representation of the circumstances surrounding the angst and living conditions in an urban environment is clear. This song is the quintessential rap song.

I can't find a site that has all of the lyrics correct in my opinion. Most of the sites have at least two or three lines that are obviously wrong. Since I couldn't find a site to link you to that I was happy with, I decided to try to interpret all of the lyrics myself. I feel confident that all of the lines are correct with the exception of a couple lines in the third verse, which I surrounded by *stars*.
Here's my interpretation of the lyrics:

Some get a little, and some get none.
Some catch a bad one, and some leave the job half done.
I was one who never had and always mad.
Never knew my dad. Motherfuck the fag.
Where anywhere I did pick up, flipped the clip up.
Saw many stick-ups, 'cause niggas had the trigger hiccups.
I couldn't get a job, nappy hair was not allowed.
My mother couldn't afford us all, she had to throw me out.
I walked the strip, with just a clip, who wanna hit?
They got 'em quick, I had to eat, this money's good as spent.
I threw in braids, I wasn't paid enough.
I kept 'em long 'cause I couldn't afford a haircut.
I got laughed at, I got jumped, I got dissed.
I got upset, I got a tech and a banana clip.
Was down to throw the lead to any dealin' tac head.
I still woulda been broke, so a lot of good it would've did.
Or done, if not for bad luck, I would have none.
Why did I have to lead a life of such a bad one?
Why when I was a kid and played out was a sad one?
And always wanted to live like this or that one?

[Chorus]

A ghetto bastard, born next to the projects.
Livin' in the slums with bums, I say now "Why, Treach
do I have to be like this?" Momma said I'm priceless
So I am all worthless, starved, and it's just what being nice gets.
Sometimes I wish I could afford a pistol then, though.
Last stop to hell, I would've ended things a while ago.
I ain't have jack but a black hat and napsack,
war scars, stolen cars, and a blackjack.
Drop that, and now you want me to rap and give?
Say somethin' positive? Well positive ain't where I lived.
I lived right around a corner from west hell,
two blocks from south shit, and once in a jail cell.
The sun never shone on my side of the street, see.
And only once or twice a week I would speak.
I walked alone, my state of mind was home sweet home.
I couldn't keep a girl, they wanted kids or cars with chrome.
Some life, it you ain't wear gold your style was old
And you got more juice and dope for every bottle sold.
"Hell no," I say, "there's gotta be a better way."
But hey, never gamble any game that you can't play.
I'm slowin' and flowin' and goin' on and knowin' and not now.
How will I do it, how will I make it? I won't, that's how.
Why me, huh?

[Chorus]

My third year to adulthood, and still a knucklehead.
I'm better off dead, huh, that's what my neighbor said.
I don't do jack but fightin', lightin' up the street at night.
Playin' hide and seek with a machetti *sets of Freddy's spikes*.
Some say I'm rollin' on, nothin' but a dog now.
I answer that with fuck you and a bow wow.
'Cause I done been through more shit within the last week
Than a fly flowin' in doo-doo on the concrete.
I been a deadbeat, dead to the world and dead wrong.
Since I was born that's my life, oh you don't know this song?
So don't say jack, and please don't say you understand.
All that man to man talk can walk damn.
If you ain't live it you couldn't feel it, so kill it, skillet.
And all that talk about it won't help it out, now will it?
In Illtown *fell like I stuck-up props, got shot*.
Don't worry got hit by a flurry, and his punk ass dropped.
But I'm the one who has been labeled as an outcast.
They teach in schools I'm the misfit y'all will outlast.
But that's cool with the bull, smack 'em backwards.
That's what you get for fuckin' with a ghetto bastard.

If you ain't ever been to the ghetto.
Don't ever come to the ghetto.
'Cause you wouldn't understand the ghetto.
So stay the fuck out of the ghetto.

Why me?