What's up Mac? What's up man, what's up? *** nigga, times hard out here nigga. I got this mother***in' letter that I had wrote when I was locked up. I want you to read this mother***er. You wrote a letter to a bitch or something? Nah man, this ***, this *** real out here. Man, I wrote this *** to the White House nigga. To the White House? Man, check this *** out. Dear Mr. President, I live in the hood Where people do bad, but they say it's all good I have my homies slangin' or robbin' So call it misdemeanor felony, we come survivin' In three strikes, niggas outed But we don't give a ***, cause niggas down here fightin' One nation, in God we trust But then you say Saddam ain't gon' *** with us Now you see how we feel Niggas set trip, ride gangbang, that's why they get killed You run from the press You run from killers and jackals and wear bulletproof vests Some say the president like weed and hoes Down here young niggas ride six when old Black terrorists wanna blow you away I got niggas in the ghetto wanna take my place You got Secret Service rollin' the streets I got a bunch of no limit niggas ridin' with me Dear Mr. President, My Letter to The President Dear Mr. President, Momma just lost her job Daddy just got paid comin' home When he was robbed, man law givin' us three days to disappear And Santa Claus missed out my house this year You got the White House, protected by the government killers We got the Crank House, protected by them neighborhood dealers Opportunity ain't never not Yeah, they be lockin' niggas up with slingin' padded rocks If you could answer my questions, I wouldn't stress That's why niggas smoke cracks, not coke Hit the weed when they stressed, niggas die in the ghetto Put they face on the shirt, white folks get killed And it's a city-wide search, don't just holler at a nigga You need a boat, my lil' homie got 20 For weed and coke, nigga cross my heart They hope to die, I'm beggin' for change But only you can take the tears out my people eyes Dear Mr. President, My Letter to The President Dear Mr. President, My Letter to The President Dear Mr. President You heard me, we tryin' to unite We tryin' to make it better, but uh We need some help, you know I got lucky, but I come from a place Where most of my people, they ain't faulty You know what I'm sayin', I mean Drugs and gunplay is a must People hungry out here, they starving Only time will tell when we go with it, oh Mr. President And only God can judge us But you know what, with all the problems that you goin' through And tryin' to run the 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 somethin' about our pain in the ghetto P.S., Master P, the last dime To the realest nigga I know, The President Nigga, shake these mother***in' fans off us too, nigga, if you could I ain't sayin' all police is crooked But you know what, there's some good ones out there Just like record companies, just cause a nigga on the record company That don't mean sellin' dope, gang bangin', or killin' mother***ers Just remember that, you can't judge every book by it's cover And uh, I'll die for this ***, no limit I love this ***, like you love the country, Mr. President It's the realest *** I ever wrote, nigga