| Can you picture, young niggaz in a rush to grow
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| til hard timers in the pen, had to crush his throat
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| Probably never even saw it comin — too busy bullshittin
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| Caught him with his mouth runnin; |
| ain’t this a bitch
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| They got me twisted in this game
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| The feds and the punk, po-lice pointin pistols at my brain
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| I wonder if I’m wrong cause I’m thugged out
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| My homies murdered execution style runnin in the drug house
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| what was supposed to be a easy hit — now shit is flipped
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| cause niggaz died over bullshit — it’s not my dream
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| I’m seein pictures of a broken man, no witnesses
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| Only the questions of who smoked the man, young adolescents
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| in our prime live a life of crime, though it ain’t logical
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| We hobble through these tryin times, livin blind
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| Lord help me with my troubled soul
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| Why all my homies had to die 'fore they got to grow?
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| And right before I put my head on the pillow, say a prayer one love
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| to the thugs in heaven I’ll see you there
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| It’s written for the young and dumb that wasn’t warned
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| Help you make it through the storm
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| My words to my first born, feel me
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| . |
| My words to my first born
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| . |
| My words to my first born
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| Since my very first day on this earth, I was cursed
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| So I knew, that the birth of a child would make my life worse
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| And though it hurt me there was no distortion
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| Cause wild seeds can’t grow, we need more abortions
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| Quiet your soul, cause you know what you had to do And so did victims of a world they never came to I understand it’s a better day comin
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| Sometimes cats be sleepin on the dead end
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| drivin with the car runnin blinded
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| Ain’t no love in the hood only hearts torn
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| Love letters to the innocent and unborn
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| All the babies that died up on the table
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| Wasn’t able to breathe, cause the family wasn’t able
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| Can’t — blame her I would do the same
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| All I could give it was my debt and my last name
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| Cause in the game things change livin up and down
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| This hard life got me walkin with my head down
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| Flashin frowns wasn’t meant to be, was I wrong?
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| But I’ll never get to know, so I carry on It’s written for the young and dumb that wasn’t born
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| My words to my first born, feel me
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| . |
| My words to my first born
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| . |
| Mmm! |
| (Yeah) These are the words to my first born
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| . |
| Hey nigga talk to your born, talk to your seed nigga
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| Two thousand somethin somethin it’s a new era
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| A nigga’s too real, now see shit too clear
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| See there’s more than just this scrilla and this tilt
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| (What else is it dawg?)
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| The velvet and the silk, and makin sure my kittens got they milk
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| (Hoo!) Gotta fill this mattress, let my kids know I’m at this
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| Attack this, the Mack must roll, hood stroll
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| Ain’t no question is it? |
| Above the Law hustlers
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| If it’s related to chips, homey we’ll handle ya Yo.
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| Although we never take advantage though we always into ery’thang
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| By all means, stack green, gangsta lean
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| They say money make the world go 'round
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| So only 'ssociate yourself with paper chasers
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| and niggaz that’s truly down — and keep God first
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| And give thanks for the good times, as well as when it hurts
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| It’s player haters every corner you hit
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| Touchin their tits, hella thick, tryin to get you for yo’grip
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| I know you stressed out and fed up But come out, gun-blazin, and keep yo’head up You can call it what you want to but it ain’t gon’change
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| Above the Law, 2Pac, O.G.'s in this rap game
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| And we done lived a long hard life
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| And we done shed so many tears under these bright lights
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| Y’all, although we grew up, corrupted and scorned
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| We still got a lot of wisdom, to give to our first born
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| What you gon’tell your kids nigga?
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| Who was you? |
| What was you doin? |
| How did you put it down?
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| These my words to my motherfuckin first born
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| so they can know, y’knahmean?Hehehe
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| Ain’t nuttin but a motherfuckin rider, Wessyde 'til I die
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| That’s all it was, it’s a crooked-ass hand they deal a motherfucker
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| I just played to win, just played to win
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| Motherfucker gotta bet agains the odds. |