| 3 kids started off being friends to the end
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| Growing up in a time that turned boys to men
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| Carlo was the slick one, the little girls liked him
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| And all the little niggas in the hood, wanted to fight him
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| But Carlo, main nigga James wasn’t having that
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| James had boxing game and left niggas laying flat
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| All of us 12 or 13 at the time
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| Drinking cheap wine, and smokin' brown bag dimes
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| I was into writing rhyme in class at school
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| Waitin' for the bell to ring so we can go and shoot pool
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| One day, some up the block niggas came talking shit
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| Bragin' on they clique, and how many crews they click with
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| Tryin' to start some extra clip shit, them niggas so for real
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| James so cool to get with fucked his whole grill
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| Carlo, that slick nigga pulled a 22
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| They got some heat too, what the fuck we gonna do?
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| Bust and hit the backdoor, now we in the alleyway
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| Running, heart pumpin' fast tryin' to see another day
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| Blessed to escape the mayhem
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| Time and time again, we escaped the mayhem
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| Yo, whats been goin' on dogg?
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| Man, that shit goin' down dogg
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| What’s goin' down with you?
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| I done heard you got rich huh?
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| You don’t fuck around with us in the hood no more huh?
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| You know it’s funny how shit changes, right?
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| How life can loosen up a friendship that’s so tight
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| Years after all the horseplay and misdemeanor crimes
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| Us being homeboys, didn’t seem so fine
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| Years of just fuckin' around, rappin' in the neighborhood
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| Found me with a gold album, tryin' to live my life good
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| Carlo got popped with 8 keys in a minivan
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| Somewhere in Tex, Arcan, doin' about a hundred man
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| That nigga James, straight cutthroat on them snouts
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| Robbin' dope boys, gettin' what the fuck he want
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| The game changed, now you gotta play with death
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| Now I have to ask myself
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| Do you remember your childhood, back when
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| You didn’t have to have loot, to have friends
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| Now it’s all about your benjamins, your cash flow
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| And if a nigga fuck with that, he better know
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| Time changed everything, between us
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| And if I see you in the streets, I gotta bust
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| You used to be a friend to me, one I could trust
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| Now if you see me in the streets, you better bust
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| One day, I’m on my way to the studio, ya dig?
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| Pick up a zip of hay, after I drop off my kids
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| Flippin' through the hood, seen James with his little crew
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| Blue rags up, in a drop top Malibu
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| Bloodshot eyes, I could smell the dip burnin'
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| Bumpin' DJ Squeeky, flashin' what the earnin'
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| He asked about Carlo, well what can I say?
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| I write him when I get a chance, but I pray for him everyday
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| Lookin' at my ride, tellin' me nigga you comin' up
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| Fuckin' with that rappin' stuff, I guess you just forgot about us
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| Nah cat, it ain’t like that
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| I gotta eat, that’s when James clicked and pulled out his fuckin' heat
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| I hit the gas, he kept bustin' till the clip was empty
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| 17 shots, and didn’t nothin hot nip me
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| Quickly, grabbed my shit and opened it up wide
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| The nigga on the passenger side instantly died
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| James bailed, I gave chase, fuck the consequence
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| If I let him live, he’ll start another incident
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| 12 years ago, I never thought I’d see the day
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| Shit would ever be this way |