| I was made this way, I was made this way
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| I was made this way, I was made this way
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| When I was younger OG’s used to let me come around
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| And soak up game like a sponge, or should I say 'beach towel'
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| They woke my game up when I was a little child, when I was broke
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| But now I’m up and I ain’t never coming down
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| I wasn’t a knock, I was the server
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| My street was like drive-thru service like In-N-Out Burger
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| We was havin' our digits, no woof tickets
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| Me, Caveo, D-Shot, B-legit, my cousins and siblings
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| In my region, in my district, on my land
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| They got more 'K's than the Klan
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| In my city they got more guns than Corpis Cristie
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| Gotta keep your head above choppy water and quick sand
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| Give you a thirty second check-up for disrespecting a pillar
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| For disrespecting a staple you’ll get disabled and able
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| Let me breathe on you for a minute, let me game you up
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| When I was growin' up we went from the shoulders and knuckled up
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| We had to square up and squabble, swing 'em and chuck 'em
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| And even if you got your ass beat, at least you stood for somethin'
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| I don’t condone sucka shit, that’s not how the game was designed
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| I don’t tape conversations, I don’t record FaceTime
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| I’m the last of my make, so therefore it won’t be no more
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| It’s stormin' suckas, it’s thunderin', when it rains it pours
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| 40 Water what it do? |
| You still dribble? |
| Nope
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| Oh, I was gonna say, if you do, you got a pickle?
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| A pickle, a P, a Pound, let me call one of my folks, they still get down
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| Life is a gamble but this ain’t Caesars
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| This a Hail Mary, a jump ball, a buzzer beater
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| Ain’t been home in a month, ain’t been sleep in a week
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| I’m in love with the road, I’m addicted to cheese
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| Jumped off the porch, landed straight in the streets
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| I played the hand that was given to me
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| Bitch, I was made this way
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| I was made this way
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| And we were made this way
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| I was made this way, aye
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| I might mix Amiri with some Alexander Wang drip
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| Tryna see how many hoes can the plane fit
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| How the fuck you driving that on earth? |
| That’s a spaceship
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| Domestic violence on my neck, that’s how the chain hit, bitch
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| Under pressure, I’ma shoot the 3 like Jordan in his prime
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| Ruler on this Glock, nigga measure up your odds
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| Diamonds in Roley face like nigga fuck the time (Fuck it)
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| Blow your brains out, then we gon' see what’s on your mind
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| Nigga hatin' on me, take his bitch on a vacation
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| When your crib get lit up, don’t make no Christmas decorations
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| Wake up, pick my clothes, I’ll jump in the shower (What else nigga?)
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| Then go kick it with my uncle who used to sell powder
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| You joined a gang, but don’t know nothing about it
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| That’s how we know you only did it for survival
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| You better pray that you ain’t click up with the rivals
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| 'Cause every night we hunting with extensions on them rifles
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| Big Glock on my hip look like a blow dryer (Big Glizzy)
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| Smoke a Backwood, take my soul higher
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| These rappers ain’t even talented, they got ghostwriters
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| Set your head on fire, turn you to Ghost Rider
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| Ain’t been home in a month, ain’t been sleep in a week
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| I’m in love with the road, I’m addicted to cheese
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| Jumped off the porch, landed straight in the streets
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| I played the hand that was given to me
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| See, I was made this way
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| I was made this way
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| And we were made this way
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| I was made this way, yeah |