| Circumstances are like my first fight I lost
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| It was swinging, my arms bugging, adrenaline pumping
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| Oh shit, this little nigga’s thugging
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| I mean, I was thirteen, I was nursing a knot on my face
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| But chose another time and a place
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| That I would avenge my last fight cuz the same shit
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| Ain’t gonna happen that just happened last night
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| Knuckle game changed quicker than lightning
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| Hit 'em or slice 'em
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| Either stick 'em or blast pipes, it’s the fastlife
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| I try to give another nigga advice, shoot dice
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| Do plenty of shit cause this life, how many you get?
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| How many niggas do you know get two?
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| Besides a nigga who snitch to skip a life-bid, be one a' your crew
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| I don’t respect killers, I respect O.G. |
| knowledge
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| Codes of the streets got new rules, but no guidance
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| Lessons, detrimental to a young disciple
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| Focus, take care of your brothers, niggas do as I do
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| Keep your enemies close, where they can see you
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| It’s not your enemy who get you
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| It’s always your own people
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| It’s always your own people
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| It’s always your own people
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| It’s always your own people
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| It’s always your own people
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| Mass confusion, in my head
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| Killing me, driving me mad
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| Got me wondering, can I trust my friends?
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| Cuz they stick me in my back every chance they get
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| Am I paranoid? |
| and if that’s the case
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| Is it curable? |
| Can you help me find my place?
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| I can’t handle this, I’m losing it
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| With a loose grip I’m hanging on to emptiness
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| Help your brother, save him from the
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| Evil demons in between us, came between us
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| I know you hate me, don’t you
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| I bet you sit and wish my time never came
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| You probably rather see me die in the game
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| You probably rather see me die in a plane
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| Well ya’ll see me up on top of my dough
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| I get my money shit changed
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| And niggas start looking at me different than this
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| And downplay the real nigga shit to get with a bitch
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| But I’mma tell a motherfucker like this
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| You only good as what you come up against
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| Nigga you get what you get
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| Sure the grass is greener on the other side of the fence
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| But any attempts and you gonna need the guy in the trench
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| I’ma starter while you riding the bench
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| You saying you a player, well I’m the one designing your prints
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| Something to go by, to let these niggas know I
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| Don’t believe in letting shit slide, nigga gonna die
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| Best friends since high school seniors
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| With a homeboys demeanor
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| But let the bullshit come between us
|
| Mass confusion, in my head
|
| Killing me, driving me mad
|
| Got me wondering, can I trust my friends?
|
| Cuz they stick me in my back every chance they get
|
| Am I paranoid? |
| and if that’s the case
|
| Is it curable? |
| Can you help me find my place?
|
| I can’t handle this, I’m losing it
|
| With a loose grip I’m hanging on to emptiness
|
| Help your brother, save him from the
|
| Evil demons in between us, came between us
|
| Ay this um…
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| This song right here dedicated to the homie Curtis Davis
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| We love you home, Big Mello, RIP
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| Facemob for life |