| Yeah
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| I’m feelin' this one Q
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| This a classic
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| Pachino Life
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| These rappers is so old
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| Need to retire rap
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| Fuck with young Coz, 'cause I’m where that fire at
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| Come walk through my home
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| Yeah, I’ll take you inside of that
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| Inside my rap, still strugglin', but I know real cats admire that
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| I got a fam so most my time get applied to that
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| But I’m still hungry, see the fame, I desire that
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| I heard they sayin' I’m sweet now
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| 'Cause I don’t run around strapped, tuckin' that heat now
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| And I ain’t in the mix, movin' P’s and keys now
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| 'Cause I could make a hunnit-thou, fuckin' with beats wild
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| You not in my ball game
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| You dudes is small change
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| Ice and a couple hoes, is that what you call fame
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| A lot of cats hatin' on me
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| But most of 'em fakin', homie
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| The world is debatin' on me
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| I got her patiently pacin' and waitin' on me
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| They know the flow is so butter
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| Rap with the soul level brother
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| I’m so gutter
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| It’s no other
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| I’m so cold
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| So cold
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| So cold
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| Under pressure and won’t fold
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| 'Cause homie I’m
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| So cold
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| So cold
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| So cold
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| Got rap in a choke hold
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| And homie I’m
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| So cold
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| So cold
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| So cold
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| I won’t fold
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| This street life is so cold
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| I’m holdin' my mom’s hands
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| And beggin' her don’t go
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| I’m watchin' my kids cry
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| The price on the brick’s high
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| Shit, I remember when they were goin' for 10−5
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| And now it’s like, losin' life is supposed to be easy
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| Now he lost his life over money
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| He was tryna' feed his child
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| And my young homie tried to send a brick or two
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| Be careful where you’re shippin' to
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| It’s been hard to get 'em through
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| But I’m in love with this lifestyle
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| This Kush is just so loud
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| I’m tryin' to slow down
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| My heart is just cold now
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| And trust me, them boys tried twice
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| But no, they couldn’t touch me
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| Bag full of dirty money
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| Used to ride around town with that thing on my lap
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| And now I’m stuck in the traffic
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| And while I’m weighin' these packs
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| I start to think about all I used to dream about
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| Cars, big houses, and money
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| How can they leave me out
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| I’m so cold
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| So cold
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| So cold
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| Under pressure and won’t fold
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| 'Cause homie I’m
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| So cold
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| So cold
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| So cold
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| Got rap in a choke hold
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| And homie I’m
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| So cold
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| So cold
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| So cold
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| Conversin' with my O.G. |
| and burnin' on some Christmas tree
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| Ask 'em why don’t you please give me game on life mystery
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| Told me that we all born to die, so prepare to be
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| A maker of history and broken down misery
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| You told me every hustle that was ever born to struggle
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| Was forgivin by God, so I purchase the hard
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| Then I put it in the trunk
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| And I took a short trip
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| And I put it in the trap
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| And I make that brick flip
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| And it only took a Summer for my come up
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| Shorty had them units in the city doin' numbers
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| Fuckin' with the pretties of hoes, you remember
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| Tammy, Trenae, Melinda, Jacenta
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| Had all them hoes whippin' with a blender
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| Either that or carryin' them bags in the rental
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| And I done took my O.G.'s plug by December
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| They told that old man, homie, don’t trip, remember
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| I’m so cold
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| So cold
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| So cold
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| Under pressure and won’t fold
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| 'Cause homie I’m
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| So cold
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| So cold
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| So cold
|
| Got rap in a choke hold
|
| And homie I’m
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| So cold
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| So cold
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| So cold |