| I’m still a player, a confidential player
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| I’m just trying to do something right, so let me live my life
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| Even though I’m still hustling, I know you want to see me struggling
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| But at least I’m trying to do something right so let me live my life
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| Lord knows I had my share of doing the wrong things
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| But a bonified player that finds the life in me
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| Casualties make us cry but still we got to mash
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| Keep my eyes up on the sparrow and mind, up on my cash
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| Penetrate, finish last maintain a steady pace
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| Keep the busters out your business and haters up out your face
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| In this last rat race, the lord some’s got to come
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| Shrivel my signature I call it rapping refunds
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| The ones that criticize be the ones you call your friends
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| The ones that ride it out ain’t gone always be your kin
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| But then, you got to know, if it’s yours you gone get it
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| But also you got to know that everyday, ain’t terrific
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| Precision about your plans, keep it real with your fans
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| Watching my baby boy grow to be a young man
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| My daughter got to know, from the jump you a queen
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| And fuck what them niggas say you tell them your daddy is a king
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| Everytime I look around
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| These haters they be talking down
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| Big Moe that done bring more light
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| I even had a, had a harder time
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| But I’m still here still going strong
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| You can’t believe what you hear in the song
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| About the year two triple o three
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| Whole wide world sipping drank with me
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| I got money but I’m still a little stressed
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| I thank the lord cause you know I’m the best
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| A little love set with the press
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| Why you want less cause through this
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| I guess it’s best for me, to stay calm
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| And hold it down till the day that I’m gone
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| I got a white cup in my palm
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| Feel what a peach crush Mo-Yo's just a
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| Player, player, player, player
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| Money, the rule to all evil that’s what I need
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| Between the hours of 3 to 7, that’s when I bleed
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| Motherfuckers gone making the block hot, so I stay and move around
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| Tyte Eyez and Z-Ro stacking paper, it’s going down
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| Break the shop of a nigga that’s short stopping my change
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| But me and him to the fullest ducking bullets at close range
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| Feeling crazy, like I’m a lose my life to a bitch nigga
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| But while I’m here I be a rich nigga
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| Nephews and nieces, niece cool clothes and chains and pieces
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| I break bread with my family when my record releases
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| Besides skills in the west, nigga got mouths to feed
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| Anything against the grain just light a finger spot over seas
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| Saturday morning as a youngster I ain’t have no bike
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| And I ain’t have no Nikes, but in the triple I’ma have more ice
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| Around my neck and my wrist with fern doors
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| Z-Ro, confidentially yours a player |