| One nigga found dead in the bayou
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| That’s the beginning of this story that I’m telling you
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| I was in the 9-tre smokin' a spliff on the strip
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| Seen a little cutie with some bootie. |
| stop to shoot the shit
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| She was on my dick cause in the hood, I had a little rank
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| She was the kind of ho tryin' to take a nigga for his bank
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| But what she did not know, a nigga had a plan for that
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| Take her out to dinner then knock that ass up in my cadillac
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| All of a sudden, my beeper started buzzin' on the side of me
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| The code read 33. I knew it was MJG
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| Step to the mobile phone. |
| G was talkin' crazy
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| This ho heard some niggas say them laws are out to get me
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| That night, I was dumpin that bitch in the ditch
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| Did not know that I was doin it in the presence of a snitch
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| Got dope from the scenery. |
| thinkin I was scot-free
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| And now, I’m duckin and dodgin tryin to keep it low-key
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| Spliffed-out, ridin in my hooptie on cloud 9
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| Doin about 50 when a nigga pass 1-Time
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| Now they got a nigga faced-down on the sidewalk
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| Talkin all that punk ass rookie pig cop talk
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| What was in my pocket. |
| Grabbin all my money and my beeper
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| Ramblin through my car, the pigs found my 9 mm
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| Now, I’m in the county callin G to come and get me
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| Wandering who is the snitch callin these laws tryin to sell me out
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| Oh no! |
| My mind is getting paranoid
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| A nigga can’t even trust his own homeboys
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| As a result, I’m always alone
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| Except for some of the hoes I bone
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| Most of the time, I watch the news while I get my smoke on
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| Thousands after thousands on a lawyer who ain’t doin shit
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| Locked up in this house a nigga 'bout to have a fuckin fit
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| Last night, I seen my face on the news. |
| G
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| Some nigga who worked for me. |
| slipped and lost an uzi
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| Now, I’m on the run. |
| livin like a fugitive
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| I thought to myself on the run ain’t no way to live
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| I thought I’d party hard and smoke and drank this century
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| Now, I’m slowly dyin in this penetentery…
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| NO MERCY… NIGGA! |