| Yo' let me holla at y’all for a minute
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| It’s like when, I was in the ghetto
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| I was never in the ghetto, because my mind was elsewhere
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| And if I was locked down, I would invision myself being free
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| But God, I got so many questions
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| I just want you to anwser
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| Help Me Out…
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| Rico (from Sons Of Funk):
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| I wish that God would talk to me (Talk to me)
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| About all the pain that I’ve seen (I know you seen it too)
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| Move on, coming out right
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| Cracked out Mother got nerve to be crying
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| All my friends seem to pass away (Rest in peace, all y’all rest in
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| Peace)
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| I heard one say, that’s the only way (No it ain’t)
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| But I wish it would rain
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| I wish I’d rain, I wish I’d rain, so it could wash away all my pain
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| It’s going around outside
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| I wish I’d rain, I wish I’d rain, so it could wash away all this pain
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| It’s going around outside
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| Rico:
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| My best friend’s house payments behind
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| Now he lives in the park outside
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| Mary complains about the money she makes
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| I see some more people dying of AIDS (I feel ya dog, I feel ya)
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| Silkk:
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| Yo'
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| Trying to make the whole world invision my pain (invision my pain)
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| Trying to pretend that the ghetto was all good
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| Ya' know what I really wish for change
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| But it seems killas and drug-dealas
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| But they stereo-type me as a thug
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| Hard to see clear
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| Supposed to be one-night stand, I ain’t supposed to be here, Mom and Dad
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| Never was in love
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| It seems domestic violence is always the problem
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| When I go home (Go gome)
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| Hoping once in my life that Mom and Dad would get along
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| See my grandfather died in the war
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| And all he ever got was medals, and my grandmother got a letter
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| Only things my kids ever GOT?!
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| Was a trip to the ghetto
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| Have you ever seen a crackbaby? |
| Or someone die of AIDS?!
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| Watch them suffer and with all this money I got
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| They can’t be saved
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| We all hustle so fuck the color, white or black
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| We all struggle, we act like
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| We better then each other, we’re supposed to be all sistas and brothas
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| Feel my pain
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| It’s better that you know
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| But don’t feel sorry for me, even though I lived hard and rough
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| I lived better than most
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| Knowin' one day I gotta go, and I can’t buy time
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| I gotta homie that’s doing 99
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| He sending me pictures and letters like it’s all fine
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| I know it’s not
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| And ya' know what? |
| It’s even worse
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| They got us killin' over turfs
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| I don’t know when the last time I went to church
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| Can’t sleep, doin' too much dirt
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| In the middle of the ghetto, just wishin' for clout (wishin' for clout)
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| Ladies forget having babies by these fake playas and shady bustas
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| Thinkin' they can get you out
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| See now my quest to live hard, a quest to live large
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| God I have a question
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| Why’s it so hard?! |
| (Feel my pain, feel my pain… feel that?)
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| Ya' know what I’m sayin'
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| Killin' over dolla bills, paper
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| Fightin' over turfs, when none of it don’t belong to us
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| And racism?! |
| Still exist, but ME?! |
| I’m color-blind
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| We gotta realize we gotta problem
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| And the government? |
| The only time they care, is election time
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| And they seem to think the only solution is
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| Build more prisons to throw us in… it's not right
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| But I got homies dyin' over nothing (Rest in peace Biggie, rest in peace
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| Pac)
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| And all the fallen soldiers
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| Ya' know what, it used to be in my community… drugs and violence
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| Now it’s going around, now it’s going around… it's going around
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| Soon to be in your spot, if it’s not there already
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| I’m out
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| (It's going around outside) |