| Holdin' it down for the good and bad times
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| On the low from the pole when you couldn’t stash your nine
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| It was, junior high, we was new to high
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| Different class, pinching ass, watching time slide by
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| Side by side, rider to rider
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| Until I got my record deal and you said I got sour
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| But, with every second, minute and hour
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| I see niggas backwords, respect, money and power
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| Like, good lord, could it be the Porsche?
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| That got my best friend jealous and want to come and shoot up my porch
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| I give him handshakes and hugs
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| He give me mean mugs
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| Like «fuck that nigga Buckshot that nigga a bum»
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| Ain’t none of that when I come around though
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| A nigga will give you a pound for a pound of smoke
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| Shit, snake in the grass and all that though
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| Come up fast get cut for some cash flow, nigga
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| Well I keep holdin' on to yesterday
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| I keep holdin' on, enough to say
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| That it’s wrong
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| Thinking of a master plan
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| Cause ain’t nothing but sweat inside my hand
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| Quote from the God Rakim Allah
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| I see what he saw
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| Plus I know what Kane felt when he said, «I get raw»
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| Shit changed, when you tryin' make these papers
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| Like when Biz Mark made «The Vapors»
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| Chuck said it take a nation of millions to hold us back
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| So we grind for these chips 'till we gripping a thicker stack
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| You can get with this or you can get with that
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| These black sheep’s ready to stick niggas or flip a pack
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| Sitting back listening to G rap
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| Feeling «Ill Street blues» while grippin my new gat
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| I’m like KRS criminal mind
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| Ride 'till I die or lay in solitary confinement
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| Rest in peace Justo
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| By his death, I’m reminded
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| Don’t be thinking shits sweet when you see niggas rhyming
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| Well I keep holdin' on to yesterday
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| I keep holdin' on, enough to say
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| That it’s wrong
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| I can’t let my childhood years go away
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| That’s the only sentimental things that keep me today
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| The doc’s keep sayin' that I’m repressing
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| I’m stuck in depression
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| That’s why I lash out in aggression
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| But, that matters what breaks the sight
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| And the news is the headlines of my life
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| Whether there or nay
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| Hard times I pray
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| And I hope that my spirit will find it’s way
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| To a god that’ll words to
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| Hoping that he say, «yeah my dude I hear you»
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| If not then I’m stuck in my sins
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| Any the only way I know to speak through is my pens
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| And you, you just like me too
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| If you knew any better you’d do what I do
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| But, just keep me in your prayers
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| It’s the last stand and boot camp is here, so
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| Well I keep holdin' on to yesterday
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| I keep holdin' on, enough to say
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| That it’s wrong |