| Nigga, where the fuck you been?
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| I know you heard the phone pagin
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| I know you heard the shit goin off, okay?
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| Where the fuck you was at?
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| Where you was at that coulda been so important you couldn’t fuckin call
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| The little kid’s pampers shitty as hell, ain’t no fuckin pampers
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| That’s where the fuck you went, right, to go get pampers
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| Where the shit’s at?
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| You don’t smell that shit?
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| You smell it, right, you smell the fuckin house?
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| Where the fuck was you?
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| Why you think the kids act like that when you come around?
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| They don’t fuckin know you
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| Why, cause you was a deadbeat dad, nigga
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| That’s what the fuck you are
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| That’s the role you play, piece of shit
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| Aiyo, I just want my baby to look and still love me
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| Knowin that her daddy’s a crook, word up
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| All the time I’m in crazy drama
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| When I pick up the phone call my baby’s mama, aha
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| She try to tell my baby I’m no good
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| But she don’t like to explain how Starang is so hood
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| Sayin money ain’t shit, she don’t know no better
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| She got a regular job, she don’t owe no cheddar, aha
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| Fightin and fussin, she’s sayin, «Fuck Will»
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| But bitches always tryin to ice-skate uphill
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| But I’mma stay aggy to keep you happy
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| Knowin it makes you mad when bitches try to get at me
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| You only four, don’t like your hair nappy
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| We both won’t rock gators less they Navy’s
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| I’mma bust my ass to make sure you have, girl
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| Cause right now you’re all I have, word up
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| Aiyo, daddy wanna leave now
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| Your moms playin games and I feel deceived now
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| I gotta go when I do a show or leave for tours she hatin
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| Sniffin my drawers, ask me if I’m fornicatin
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| I’m like, bitch please, gone are the days of me
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| Trickin with chickens on the ave that striptease
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| Yo, and I don’t like your moms
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| Gettin to the point where I wanna strike your moms
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| And I know you don’t wanna see me fight your moms
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| Get hype and commence to lead-pipe your moms
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| And I ain’t goin to jail
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| I’m packin my bags, I’m out the door, I gotta bail
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| Sit you down on that stool, give you a jewel
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| And let you know you’re never too young for that rule
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| Rule one: you must have knowledge of self
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| To know the only one you follow is self
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| Anything else is useless, the truth is the youth is wild
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| Growin up and they ruthless now
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| But you my child and I had you when I was half you
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| Now I have to show you how to follow no man and when they ask you
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| What you wanna do when you grow, tell em blow
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| Let em know everything that glitter ain’t gold
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| Never fold when you come against a obstacle
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| And know that nobody’s stoppin you but you
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| Damn, it feel good to have my son on my chest
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| See my features in his face and I love him to death
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| Show him how to move right, just right for a gang
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| Cause me and my father never did the daddy-son thing
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| While I was in the streets pitchin, he in the crib bitchin
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| Moms out workin, nobody in the kitchen
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| Now I got one of my own and my nephews is grown
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| Still I’m out grindin makin a house a home
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| From month to month, see, I live on the road
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| Give em jewels and heat the hole cause the world is cold
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| I put the joint in his hand so he used to the piece
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| Told him white man’s justice is a black man’s grief
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| You could say I love my son more than I love my wife
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| Think twice, you be sayin Dog is trife
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| That’s aight, it’s a father and son type thing
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| I got to war for mines and that’s word to everything
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| Know what I mean, daddy gon' make the cash cream
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| Whether fast or slow my son know about the dough
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| You know, some say the boy look like me
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| But if he look like me he gon' crook like me
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| He got a mind of his own, lighter tone like mama Jones
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| He love phones, the boy be buckwildin when I’m gone
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| He do the type of shit they say he been here before
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| I think he’s 17 months but he acts 17
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| My first born, so I had to name him Dashawn
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| Jarel Yates, he look like he lift weights
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| When we stack this cake, we gon' roll like skates
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| Daddy wanna stay, but daddy gotta go
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| Daddy can’t hang cause daddy gotta show
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| Poppa was a rolling stone
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| Daddy used to hold iron so I roll with chrome
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| I was named after pops but they called me Tone
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| Some ways like my pops, some ways of my own |
| Daddy didn’t know I got stoned till I got grown
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| Had my own car, home, and my son to moan
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| Just like daddy he wanna hang and roll
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| Now I pass on game how to gain and grow
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| I know hustlers that came, watched em go
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| I peeped dudes on the come-up, watched em blow
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| Give jewels to my little mens and watch em grow
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| Give em presents just to watch em glow
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| When I shine you shine, violate mine, you gots to go
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| Stay focused, there’s a lot you sohuld kkonw
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| Study life, listen and learn, sleep long, miss your turn
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| Gotta get in where you fit in when a spliff gettin burned
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| When you see me on a mission it’s commission I earn
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| Remember as a man think if the world turn
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| Daddy want a new six, ya heard, do tricks absurd
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| My little homie’s too quick to learn, word
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| Daddy need bricks, my son need kicks
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| Tim boots, jeans suits, all that new shit
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| He watch me do this, he know his daddy a soldier
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| I rep G and Jah cause that’s me all over
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| Daddy, when you gon' buy me a new X-Box?
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| I want a Nintendo Gamecube
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| And I want some new games for my X-Box, too
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| I want a PlayStation 2
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| Daddy, when you gon' take me and my brothers and sisters to Splish Splash?
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| And when you gon' take me to the store and buy ice cream and candy?
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| And when you gon' teach me how to drive your car?
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| And I want $ 100 on my birthday |