| I was there and I ain’t never
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| I was hurtin' but I ain’t need you
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| Streets never, mhm
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| Streets don’t love you, they turn they back on you
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| Streets don’t love you, they turn they back on you
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| They turn they back on you
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| Streets don’t love you, they killed Quado
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| Streets don’t love you, they killed Beasty
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| Let my niggas come home tomorrow
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| Don’t just let them see me on TV
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| Let my niggas up out that you know
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| You don’t even know how I be thinkin' that shit crazy
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| Let my broski know now, my bros, yeah
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| Let my niggas come home tomorrow
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| Free V12, yo
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| I remember when we was like 12 we went through hell, yo
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| Back when niggas was gettin' they biggies and they Pells took
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| Bitches used to curve me, used to swerve me, nigga, now look
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| They ain’t never want me now they askin' to get they nails done
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| I know I smell like dope, they gassin' me tellin' me I smell good
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| Passin' me the pussy, I passed it to my homie real quick
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| Audacity to ask me 'bout the bitches that I still fuck
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| The audacity to ask me 'bout the bitches that I still fuck
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| Your ass is lookin' fat, them Fashion Nova jeans look real good
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| I’m glad that I came up 'cause I ain’t know where I would end up
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| The 30 clip is on me but the hoodie cover my extendo
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| And niggas act so tough
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| But I just swear they don’t wanna start, though
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| Lemme tell you 'bout this young nigga from the Bronx though
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| Everybody want his head but nobody had his heart though
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| Robbin' everybody like he don’t believe in karma
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| Somebody told the feds what he did, they lined him
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| Told 'em where that nigga lived, yeah, they really lined him
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| He still sleepin' at his crib like fuck it if they find him
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| Prices on his head 'cause he hit a opp up
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| Money on his head got him moving wiser
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| Hoodie on his head, it woulda been his poncho
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| Pulled up to the crib he living wit' his moms though
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| But they don’t even care they like hit 'em all up
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| His eyes turned red and his fists balled up
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| Voices in his head saying kill them all but
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| Bullets hittin' glass goin' through the wall though
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| All he heard was screaming, he feel like his time’s up
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| He ain’t had no time to go reach for a glove
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| He just grabbed the pump, start squeezin' at the door
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| And then he seen his moms laid out on the floor
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| He dropped down to his knees he ain’t hide to the law
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| Ain’t the type to cry but his mom he really loved
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| Tears from his eyes dropped beside of the blood
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| He wishing it won’t hurt but he cried because it does
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| Then, he put his own pump right to his heart |