| Uhh. |
| dear Mr. President
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| Whas happenin?
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| I’m writin you because, shit is still real fucked up in my neighborhood
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| Pretty much the same way, right around the time when you got elected
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| Ain’t nothin changed
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| All the promises you made, before you got elected.
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| . |
| they ain’t came true
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| Tell me what to do, these niggaz actin up in the hood
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| Send mo’troops, dear Mr. President
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| (Me and my homies is wonderin what’s goin on. holla!)
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| Tell me what to do, these niggaz actin up in the hood
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| Send mo’troops.
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| Why should I lie, when I can dramatize?
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| Niggaz fell victim to my lyrics, now traumatized
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| Simply by spittin I’ve been blessed given riches, enemies suspicious
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| cause I’m seldom in the company of bitches
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| Plus the concepts I depict, so visual, that you can kiss
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| each and every trick or bitch, inside the shit I kick
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| My heaviest verse’ll move a mountain
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| Casualties in mass amounts, brothers keep countin
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| Fuck the friendships, I ride alone
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| Destination Death Row, finally found a home
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| Plus all my homies wanna die, call it euthanasia
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| Dear Lord, look how sick this ghetto made us, sincerely
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| yours I’m a thug, the product of a broken home
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| Everybody’s doped up, nigga what you smokin on?
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| Figure if we high they can train us but then America fucked up and blamed up I guess it’s cause we black that we targets
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| My only fear is God, I spit that hard shit
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| In case you don’t know, I let my pump go Get? |
| ride for? |
| Mutulu like I ride for Geronimo
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| Down to die, for everything I represent
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| Meant every word, in my letter to the President
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| Dear Mr. President, tell me what to do These niggaz actin up in the hood, send mo’troops
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| (What should I do?)
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| Dear Mr. President, tell me what to do These niggaz actin up in the hood, send mo’troops
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| Oh youse a ball in the White House, I hope you comfortable
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| cause yo I spend my nights out, with the lights out
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| under the safety of darkness, amongst the crazed and the heartless
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| and young soul bros, ready to rode a starship
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| Launch it, leave a nigga flat for scratch, the Godless
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| I gotta get chips, but you can’t understand that
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| Wanna ban rap? |
| Stand back, before you get hurt
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| It’s the only thing makin pay besides smoke and work
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| On a mission listen more chips my goal and position
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| First on my decision I realized the same nigga
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| Trippin to drastic measures tryin to get stacks of cheddar
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| Muh’fuckers hate cops, wait it ain’t gettin better
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| But you keep, tellin us, that it is while your motherfuckin troops keep killin our kids, dig
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| Don’t be surprised if you see us Dumpin with nuttin but artillery to free us, motherfucker
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| Dear Mr. President, tell me what to do These niggaz actin up in the hood, send mo’troops
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| Dear Mr. President, tell me what to do These niggaz actin up in the hood, send mo’troops
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| Strapped and angry, with no hope and heartbroke
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| Fightin first my trained brain until it’s not so It’s hostile, niggaz lick shots to watch the glocks glow
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| Cadres of coppers patrol us like we some animals
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| And it ain’t no peace, my peace a piece on my streets
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| to people beefin and things, squeakin on they beefs for weeks
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| Mr. President, it’s evident, nobody really care
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| for a struggle out the gutter, twenty-two with gray hair
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| I was raised to raise hell, frail and my heart stale
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| So I’ma bring hell to earth until my heart fail
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| But y’all play fair, give me and mine, I’ll share
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| Til y’all show us you care, it’s gon’be mayhem out here
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| Me and these 223'sll freeze the biggest with ease
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| I’m still a nigga you fear, bring the beast to his knees
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| and I’ve been born to represent, for that I’ve been heaven sent
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| And I meant, every word, in my letter, to the President
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| Shit is still fucked up y’all
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| And y’all wonder when it’s gon’get better
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| and it ain’t gon’get better
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| Dear Mr. President, tell me what to do These niggaz actin up in the hood, send mo’troops
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| Dear Mr. President, tell me what to do These niggaz actin up.
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| Heavenly Father may I holla at you briefly
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| I wanna meet the President, but will he meet me?
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| He’s scared to look inside the eyes of a Thug Nigga
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| We tired of bein scapegoats for this capitalistic drug dealin |
| How hypocritical is Liberty?
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| That blind bitch ain’t never did shit for me My history, full of casket and scars
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| My own black nation at war, whole family behind bars
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| And they wonder why we scarred, thirteen lookin hard
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| Sister had a baby as an adolescent, where was God?
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| Somewhere in the middle of my mind
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| is a nigga on the tightrope, screamin let him die
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| Can’t lie I’m a thug, drownin in my own blood
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| Lookin for the reason that my momma’s strung out on drugs
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| Down to die, for everything I represent
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| Meant every word, in my letter to the President
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| Blacks is broke, think it’s a joke that we livin low?
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| Y’all sniffin blow and postin what they hittin fo'?
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| Tell the secretary it’s necessary we get paid
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| Look what you made, little kids gettin sprayed
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| Day after day, and night after night
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| Battles and wars to the daylight
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| We might change and rearrange if you do somethin
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| Til then we gonna keep it comin, Mr. President
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| Hehe
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| And I meant every word in my letter to the President
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| Word motherfuckin life
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| Fuck this nigga think?
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| Cuttin taxes, takin off welfare
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| We 'sposed to just sit here, go broke and die, starvin?
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| Motherfuckers crazier than a motherfuckin ??
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| Nigga this Thug Life, Westside Outlaw Immortalz nigga
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| We fin’to hustle til we come up Dear Mr. President, tell me what to do These niggaz actin up in the hood, send mo’troops
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| Dear Mr. President, tell me what to do These niggaz actin up in the hood, send mo’troops
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| Dear Mr. President, tell me what to do These niggaz actin up in the hood, send mo’troops
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| Dear Mr. President, tell me what to do These niggaz actin up in the hood, send mo’troops
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| Dear Mr. Clinton, shit
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| It’s gettin harder and harder for a motherfucker
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| to make a dollar in these here streets
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| I mean shit, I hear you screamin peace
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| But we can’t find peace
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| til my little niggaz on these streets get a piece
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| I know you feel me cause you too near me not to hear me So why don’t you help a nigga out?
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| Sayin you cuttin welfare
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| That got us niggaz on the street, thinkin who in the hell care?
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| Shit, y’all want us to put down our glocks and our rocks
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| but y’all ain’t ready to give us no motherfuckin dollars
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| What happened to our 40 acres and a mule fool?
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| We ain’t stupid
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| Think you got us lookin to lose
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| Tryin to turn all us young niggaz into troops
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| You want us to fight your war
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| What the fuck I’m fightin for?
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| Shit, I ain’t got no love here
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| I ain’t had a check all year
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| Taxin, all the blacks and
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| police beatin me in the streets
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| Fuck peace
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| These niggaz actin up in the hood, send mo’troops |