| Ayo I never banged, and through it all, never changed my name
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| They used to call me Young Blu, before the fame
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| Like my cousin Smurf, heard about a OG who used to run that turf
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| Then he got murked
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| Puttin' in work with the Blacks when the Browns was beefin'
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| I got my griefin' after school with the chicks grievin'
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| Like Blu, thank God that wasn’t you, ayo
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| One week later, they got my homeboy too, ayo
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| Dang, my cousin used to tell me, «Boy watch for them colors.»
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| Other than that, you be the illest mothafucka"
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| So I pushed to the streets, I pushed to the beach
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| End up pushin' more raps than I ever pushed trees
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| I had beats from the best
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| Just to make it known, I was a beast from the West
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| Tryna get put on with the Snoops and the Games
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| The Cubes and the Pacs
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| Next thing you know they bangin' Blu on the block
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| My nigga, bang!
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| When the times get hard in the streets, niggas bang
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| When them right bars sit up on the beat, niggas bang
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| When niggas sling cocaine all day to make change
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| Niggas bang, niggas bang, niggas bang-bang
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| Tryna tell ahk, «Watch where you walk», niggas bang
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| When that spark set fire to that heart, niggas bang
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| From the rollers to the lames, ain’t a damn thing change
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| My niggas bang, niggas bang, bang-bang
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| Now I’m back up on the block, rap shit locked
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| Pocket full of money, no crack in my socks
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| Shouts to the homies in jail with no bail
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| And props to the homies that blow but don’t sell
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| They be like «Oh well, more room for the real»
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| Popped a fake in the face for actin' like I can’t tell
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| Yeah it feels all good in the hood, I know it ain’t
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| Should be smellin' all good, but, I know it stank
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| Tell the homie hold the shape while I blow that dank
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| Roll the streets with that cannon like we rollin' tanks
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| Unh, gold plates ho, I know they gon' hate
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| Might as well get the gold plaques, and the platinum chains
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| See me when you see me, 'til then, kiss the genie
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| Spell G, me, you could never be me, believe me
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| Put your CD on smoke, fuck PDs and the hoes
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| And them niggs talkin' 'bout their shit bang when it don’t
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| My nigga, bang
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| No stranger to the game, but you can’t seem to relieve her
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| You’ll see her, when the morning comes
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| Ayo, next thing you know, I’m in that county
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| With a whole bunch of real OG’s surroundin' me
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| What you do when your name’s Blu
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| And you run into a Crip, a Cholo, a Piru?
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| And everybody wanna know on the coast, what set you claim
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| All my life I had that name, but never banged
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| I’m from the Bridge, my folk from the 4th
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| East side to the dro, and all the way back home, let it be known
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| I got love for my block, love for my color
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| Love for my streets, and love for my brother
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| But a nigga put his hands on me, we catch fades
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| Fuck I look like? |
| 30, gettin' jumped in a gang
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| And my peeps say, «How you keep peace these days
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| If you ain’t got a piece by your reach these days?»
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| I say, my nigga, when you victim to the system
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| It don’t matter what you do, they always fuckin' with you
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| So just bang |