| Uhh, that’s some shit.
|
| .that that that niggaz ain’t even seen before
|
| That’s that shit! |
| (motherfuckers ain’t never seen
|
| Nothing like this before, for real man)
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| It’s goin down baby, uhh.
|
| Uhh! |
| busta rhymes
|
| What?! |
| uhh, dmx nigga
|
| Uhh, uhh, uhh, uhh, uhh
|
| I see ghosts clearly; |
| even though, most don’t hear me They still wanna get near me — fear me, so i’m leary
|
| Kinda eerie what i’m feelin — from the floor, to the ceilin
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| Straight through the roof, want the truth?
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| I kinda miss robbin and stealin
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| Cause it kept a nigga hungry, only eatin when i starved
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| I was ugly, so i robbed, no one loved me, shit was hard
|
| Went to god once in a while when it got a little too hectic
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| He was the only one i knew that i respected (why?)
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| Didn’t know why, didn’t know what i was livin was a lie
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| If i ain’t shit then, why should i try
|
| See, plenty niggaz die, over dumb shit, up in the hood
|
| Real good heart, but up to no good
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| Thought i did what i could, but i guess it, wasn’t enough
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| The devil told me it would happen but i kept callin his bluff
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| When it rains it pours now, my pains are yours
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| As yours are what’s mine, define, revolvin doors (nigga!)
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| (why?) all my niggaz tell me (why) tell me (we die)
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| Cause we crazy with it, quick to blaze you with it From in my soul to every word that i curse
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| With all the agony expressed in this verse;
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| Let me ask my niggaz (why?)
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| My niggaz tell me (why) tell me (we die)
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| Because we gods nigga (and) we go the yard nigga
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| Because i walk the ground under my feet
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| And keep it live and stay in tune with the street
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| Now let me ask my niggaz (why?)
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| They say the good die young, in the hood where i’m from
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| I only got one question to that — why the fuck am i here?
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| I look to the air, i ask god, «love me please,»
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| But in reality, only people that hug me is thieves
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| Same niggaz that send shots through my rugby sleeves
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| They wanna, slug me and leave, i’m thinkin it must be me Please shed light, the hood’s dark
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| I did my dirt but got a good heart
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| Shouldn’t that count for somethin?
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| I was told i’d amount to nothin, most of my childhood
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| Like (??) it was stuntin my growth
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| Seperated me from the shit i was wantin the most
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| Felt myself comin close to pumpin them o’s
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| Lump in my throat, chest poked out, face was poker
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| Tryin to, erase my ghostes, chase the smokers
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| Got demons on both shoulders,
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| Tryin to chauffeur my life through the streets
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| In other words nigga my will was weak
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| Please feel what i speak,
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| This ain’t your average ordinary jargon
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| Weak rap niggaz be talkin
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| This shit is deep, from the mind of busta, 'x and me To all my fallen soldiers, rest in peace, til we meet niggaz
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| I must be cuckoo, like i respect the new-you, never
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| See you too could get it through your fubu sweater
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| Like a nigga when he walk in the dark, trespassin
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| On a nigga land, shots echo loud in the park
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| I live and die for all the shit i believe
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| And rep for everything i stand for
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| With every single breath i breathe
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| Like the intake from cigarette smoke, it’s like you inhale
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| The demon in the gutter stressed struggled and broke
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| If the shit was all over tomorrow, i’d leave a treasure
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| For my kids with a legacy for my children to follow
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| You know it’s funny how the good die first
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| Get the peppin in your steppin faggot nigga
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| Cause you could die worse
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| Hold on, you know i cut off my arm, in the name of reppin
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| Real niggaz in the midst of droppin this bomb
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| Allah blessin me to rep for the better, and carry on Somethin great and keep a nigga name livin forever! |