| How it feel to be a black man
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| With your fists in the air tryna fight for your rights
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| How it feel to be a nigga
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| With your finger on the trigger, put a price on his life
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| How it feel to be a broke boy
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| Ain’t a thing in the bank and a stain on his Nikes
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| And how it feel to be richer
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| When every motherfucker tryna get a dime, open up your mind
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| Fuckin' raw like a lover
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| Shootin' out the car like a buster
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| Same old G like my father and my mother
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| Sherm sticks burn like perms, shit
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| She used to swoop me in her Granny bucket
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| We was fuckin', she was busting
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| Asking why I’m bustin'?
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| Niggas thugging «Why you never go to class or nothin'?»
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| I don’t need it, «Why your daddy acting like you tweakin'?»
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| Cause he fiendin', why you asking all these fuckin' questions?
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| Lie impressions during adolescence
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| In the pen, Crip and Blood just a point of reference
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| But I’m still saying cuh like we killing something
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| Dreamed of killing something then I did it, can’t forget it
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| Calling women bitches got me treating mama different
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| Intermissions, rhyming in my mama’s kitchen
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| I’m ain’t trippin, hell is waiting, let the karma kick in
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| But I’m just tryna kick it, baby slow it down
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| How it feel to be a black man
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| With your fists in the air tryna fight for your rights
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| How it feel to be a nigga
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| With your finger on the trigger, put a price on his life
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| How it feel to be a broke boy
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| Ain’t a thing in the bank and a stain on his Nikes
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| And how it feel to be richer
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| When every motherfucker tryna get a dime, open up your mind
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| Nigga slow down, you movin' too fast
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| Just might crash, might burn
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| Open up your mind, take your time
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| Baby better wait your turn
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| Nigga slow down, you movin' too fast
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| Just might crash, might burn
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| Open up your mind, take your time
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| Baby better wait your turn
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| It go follow, the pretty girls follow
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| Them down-home women and them city girls follow
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| That old lady think he stealin' so she gon' follow
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| Photoshop it till they double-tap it, they gon' follow
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| Yeah that’s all they’re looking for
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| «Scroll up, can she roll up? |
| Yeah», good to go
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| Hardly got it floatin' but you’re lookin' though
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| That’s how it is, get it how you live
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| Gotta change it but nothing changes
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| Until you plan it and rearrange it
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| They call us niggas
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| What if I say I don’t take offence to it
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| What if I told you I don’t cringe to it
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| What if I looked whoever said it in his face and said
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| Your kids love my shit iPod’s proof
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| I’m that nigga, check your kid’s music
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| Life lessons
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| I humble up and every time I stumble up
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| I’m just that lion that ain’t cryin', while I bust the jungle up
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| Kelly taught me that some friends are only temporary
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| And Belly told me that my little sister’s looking at me
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| I tell you how it feel
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| How it feel to be a black man
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| With your fists in the air tryna fight for your rights
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| How it feel to be a nigga
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| With your finger on the trigger, put a price on his life
|
| How it feel to be a broke boy
|
| Ain’t a thing in the bank and a stain on his Nikes
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| And how it feel to be richer
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| When every motherfucker tryna get a dime, open up your mind
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| Open up your mind
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| We from the west side, we born to ride
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| They set us up for demise, it’s time to rise
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| Am I a black king cause I’m full of pride?
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| Or am I nigga cause I like my chicken fried
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| My girl with thicker thighs, a tinted ride
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| Hide me while I’m getting high
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| My cousin died, that left me sick inside
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| '96, barely six banging «Hypnotize»
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| Singing «Biggie, Biggie», damn I miss my cousin City
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| Say that every time I rap, never gon' get tired of that
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| Counting racks with my pack
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| That’s where you can find me at
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| In the cut cause it’s too many niggas that’s switchin' up
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| When you up they love you
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| But when you down they don’t give a fuck
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| I tell you what, you think you turnt cause you got put on
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| But what is you doin' to put your hood on?
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| I was the young nigga with the hood on
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| Hands in my pockets and clutching until I realized we was all dying for nothin'
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| So let me ask you somethin'
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| How it feel to be a black man
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| With your fists in the air tryna fight for your rights
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| How it feel to be a nigga
|
| With your finger on the trigger, put a price on his life |
| How it feel to be a broke boy
|
| Ain’t a thing in the bank and a stain on his Nikes
|
| And how it feel to be richer
|
| When every motherfucker tryna get a dime, open up your mind
|
| Nigga slow down, you movin' too fast
|
| Just might crash, might burn
|
| Open up your mind, take your time
|
| Baby better wait your turn
|
| Nigga slow down, you movin' too fast
|
| Just might crash, might burn
|
| Open up your mind, take your time
|
| Baby better wait your turn
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| I got my hoodie on like Trayvon
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| They lettin' people get away with them hate crimes
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| Police shot em, how was there no witness? |
| It was day time
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| Way this shit goin' it’s like racism still alive
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| Come as you are and represent with your life on
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| Young black kings just shining with our ice on
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| On stage telling you life stories, keep the lights on
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| Y’all been eating but my people, we would like some
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| The youth need hope, the inspiration, they could use it now
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| I bump your music when in doubt or when I’m feeling down
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| A lot on my mind, I still try to use a smile
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| Just some young hot boys, they treat us like some juveniles |