| You say you want it all
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| You say forget the law
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| And everything you saw, you copped it from the raw
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| You gon' be like the ones in sky
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| And for a sec I was bout to ask why
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| But we was broke
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| It’s 83' with a street gleam
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| And young cats is rockin up and gettin' street teams
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| And motherfuckers that hate me and want me to die
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| Man they can see that I’m broke in my eye
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| I need to do it, I need to talk to Twinky, he’d probably front me somethin
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| He made 20 g’s, outta straight nothin'
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| And Pee Wee bought a 69' cutty
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| That niggas mackin bitches makin money
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| That shit ain’t funny
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| Cuz I’m a go get her and makin thangs iller
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| It’s like a pain killer, but it’s much realer
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| And in my callin' I could see the scrilla
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| Playboy jet set coke dealer, man I’mma try
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| We had a lunch date, in 1988
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| And from your sad face, you said you caught a case
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| But besides that the money was pilin' up, business was doin good
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| You movin' on thru the hood
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| Got you a house no doubt in Vallejo
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| For $ 700 ounce you gon' drop straight yayo
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| Niggas be talkin bad, sometimes I be gettin' mad
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| I just gotta gun, yo my mother said don’t call
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| And like paper I was ripped apart
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| Because you know that my mother is my heart
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| I feel ashamed, cuz im’a blast first up in the game
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| It ain’t a mystery to me, money close at range
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| Cuz these bitches be talkin shit
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| I live by the crucifix
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| Because of my past ways, it’s probably my last days
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| Praise to the double Glock
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| I’ve smoken so much pot
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| I don’t know if I like it or not
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| I got beef wit the Barry brothers
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| They started hearin' my name up in the game
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| And told the undercovers
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| Yeah so here we go round and round
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| The streets don’t make a sound
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| Don’t they come uptown, nigga we cut em' down
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| And thats the mind state for all those niggas
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| Rats bitin' cheese yeah all those squeelers
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| Till the devil come and get us yeah they all gon' feel us
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| Don’t make it hard for coke dealers
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| Word life.
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| Ok it’s 92', now what you gonna do?
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| I heard you killed a guard, in ya fightin squad
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| He said Nicky man you know the street theory
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| I can’t let the competition near me
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| I hate em' dearly
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| I’m so out of control in my life
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| Live by the sword and die by the knife
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| My mother called to give her best
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| The police picked up the phone started to laugh
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| And said he’s under arrest
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| I felt pain in my heart from a thousand whips
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| Man, I wish I had never learned to bag a zip
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| You should have seen they face when I payed my bail
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| It was the look of the devil’s thats gon' send me to hell
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| I made a call and I got a plot
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| Cuz when it comes to this lawyer
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| He wants the money man there ain’t no disguise
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| And these bitches with these cold hearts
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| Man they be tellin' they friends
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| That I’m a give em' a gang of ends and then
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| My misery is legendary
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| And I could hear the old coke dealers cryin at the cemetary
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| I’m in the fast lane with no brakes
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| And when it comes to this money
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| I need a bakery to cook these cakes
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| Man I’m goin to hell
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| Or I’m a die in jail
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| Or these bullets gon' rang
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| And I’m gonna get nailed
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| Cut cut cut me down Nicky
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| It make me wanna shiver
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| The lost soul of a coke dealer
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| Word life.
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| The lost soul of a coke dealer
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| Word life… (x2) |