| Don’t push me cause I’m close to the edge
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| I’m trying not to lose my head
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| Sometimes I sit alone
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| And look deep into my soul
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| And I starrin' down at something
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| That’s very out a control
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| Tolerence at zero
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| Emotions dead and gone
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| If indo was a pebble
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| Man consider me stoned
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| Patience low I rest to go
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| I got’s to get ahead
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| Mothafuck these hoes
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| And them po-pos I gots to get my bread
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| The streets say nothing nice
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| They crooked like the idus
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| And everybody dippin seein
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| Who can get the highest
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| But check this out
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| Man, without a doubt
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| And about who’s comin' fresher
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| And about that cab
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| And protect that ass
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| Don’t panic under pressure
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| My stabbin' like a whip
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| Or better an alligator
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| Temper going up and down like a
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| Like a fucking elevator
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| Bitch I want it now
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| Don’t give me no delay’s
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| My hustle got me trippin
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| Liftin' from my turn away’s
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| Man this life is real
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| No time to be an actor
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| And I’ll play that no man
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| Let me know
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| It’s just a stress factor
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| I want to grow old
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| Have a kid and a place to sleep
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| A down ass wife
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| And when I die I’ll rest in peace
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| But man that’s all a dream
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| This donja got me bleak
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| It got me feelin good
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| But I forgot what I did last week
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| Now look at my face
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| This shit ain’t fake
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| The pain done turn to pressure
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| Every nigga that know man feel me tho
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| Don’t cop down to a lessa
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| My mother woke me up
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| One day said «boy you gettin grown»
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| Your momma has 3 jobs
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| Your momma is gettin old
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| So I took it as a hint
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| When on my mission spree
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| Mind full of hatred
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| Got me fucka, time is hard you see
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| That monkeys on my back
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| And I can’t get him off
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| So whatever I do
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| Mom it’s just for you
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| No matter what the cost
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| I put that on my life
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| Everything I see is dark
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| Money is rare
|
| But I don’t care
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| Man stop that niggaz heart
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| He’s comin like a big wheel
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| I’m comin like a tractor
|
| Man take this hate
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| Run it’s too late
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| Man it’s the stress factor
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| Some think that I’m The Man
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| Some think my shit don’t stink
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| But yes it do
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| I thought you knew
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| I’m not a coward or a fink
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| One side of my heart got love
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| The other side is hate
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| And boy that hate is stealin love
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| Right in it’s fuckin face
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| Women ask me how I’m livin
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| I tell them day by day
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| With a donja joint
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| That lovely voice
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| Of Mr. Marvin gay
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| Man I gots to get away
|
| That just might do some good
|
| But every time I gets away
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| I miss the fuckin hood
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| My homie lost his job
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| He don’t know how to react
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| So I do our thangs to help him out
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| Like took a little crack
|
| But that shit’s over rated
|
| And it gets Complicated
|
| But you would never know
|
| From that cat flow
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| And the way the pictures painted
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| Motherfuckers whisper
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| And think I don’t hear them
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| And wonder why I’m over high
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| And never will go near them
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| Much love to all my niggas
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| From workin' men to jackas
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| Cause no matter what you feel it’s
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| Cause it’s called the stress factor |