| How do the good girls go bad?
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| Do we blame the ex-nigga or the dad?
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| Or do we blame the next nigga? |
| Like an ass
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| Saying everythin you like for a night
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| Then he hit it, out of sight
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| Or do we blame the girl that don’t know how to listen?
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| The one that got hurt, lied, and says she forgives him
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| Then he work his ass off to see that she don’t trust him
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| And he becomes an ex because he sees that she don’t love him
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| Ain’t no love without trust and we know that, that’s fact
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| Nobody wants a hundred texts asking «Where you at?»
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| You working and you cooking up cause that’s gon' get us rich
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| Hits a switch and turn a good women to a bitter bitch
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| There were nights I wanted to die and nobody called
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| I forgot that love hurts every time you fall
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| One day if you even think about this shit at all
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| Fuck a fourth bar it don’t even matter
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| You shattered my soul, I admit it it’s cold
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| Even though we get older, feeling never gets old
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| I guess that’s just a letter to you I wrote it in bold
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| You’ll probably never hear this shit but I gotta let go
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| I hope you know I love you
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| No matter how far I am, I’m always thinkin' of you
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| Shit, how we get this far apart? |
| I guess I’ll never know
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| 'Cause you got too much pride to let emotion ever show
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| One day you’ll let it go
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| 'Til then I don’t wanna be the one that watch you self-destruct
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| And I’d be lying if I say that I don’t give a fuck
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| So I just pray for you, yup, even when it hurts
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| Still at 5: 30 am before you go to work
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| That kinda love stupid, that kinda love
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| Now-take-care-of-you-after-rap kinda love
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| «My-girl-calling-bro-I'll-hit-you-back"kinda love
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| Not the bullshit the guys you’re thinking 'bout remind you of
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| Remember that
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| I hope you’ll always remember that
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| You took this shit for granted you can’t get it back
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| I’m a pull up in that black and you can’t get it back
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| Yeah, like that
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| Thinking 'bout waking up to scrambled eggs and turkey bacon grease
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| Kirk Franklin on full-blast, my granny making me
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| Clear the table, take the trash out, them was her basic needs
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| And basically, I was glad to fufill 'em
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| I guess it’s just a letter to you, I’m missing your soul
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| Missing you wanting a sip of brew so I got sent to the store
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| Family trips and barbecue chicken or we go fishing
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| But if the cash was up we on them late casino missions
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| I’m on the craps, you was on the slots
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| I got hit for my cash, you give me another knot, real nigga
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| Your heart had nothing but love in it
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| I miss your birthday cards with them two doves in it
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| Miss you telling me not to let my anger take me over
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| Or to never quit rapping cause one day I’ll take it over
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| Want you to know I finally got John on payroll
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| And Lee Lee had to move again but she okay though
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| And me and wifey straight, she whipping up alfredo
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| It his us all pretty hard but we taking the day slow
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| We gon’t be straight though
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| Just writing this letter got all of my thoughts clouded
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| But these beats and this mic is my only outlet
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| School closed from the Cabazon Outlets, so nostalgic
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| You said I’m a king and don’t doubt it
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| I’m a make you the proudest |