| Rock solid mafia
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| We goin' full throttle man
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| Thank god we still here, you know what I’m talking about
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| You heard man?
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| Some niggas here their whole life
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| Still don’t know what they here for
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| Still don’t have a purpose in life
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| You know what I’m talking about
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| So you can look at it in two ways man
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| You can complain about where you not at
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| And where you wanna be
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| Or you could think about what you could be
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| And where you at
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| You heard man?
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| C-Mob, get 'em
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| I grew up on that gangsta shit
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| All about my money partna, I got bank to get
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| I could utilize game, never thanked or tripped
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| If you cross the wrong line, I stank you quick
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| At fifteen, I split fiends and hit green
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| At sixteen has sick dreams to rip spleens
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| Sip lean and flip green to get cream
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| My wrist bleeds, it’s glistening, the trick’s clean
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| What Chris means, the shit’s clean, it’s pristine
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| Your chick cleans, my dick me will whip cream
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| I flick, fling, I clip ring, I lip scream
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| When we were young, thangs were wild
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| Are you listening?
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| But as you grow older, life starts to make a change
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| Grown in the villa, but a lot of me is still the same
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| Mainly the biggest change is my priorities
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| But I can’t say the same for the majority
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| Some things will never change
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| And that’s the way it is
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| Some folks are wrong, but they’re still like little kids
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| Some got their mind on their money
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| And now they’re makin' it
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| And some don’t know how
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| So they just take it in
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| You see I’m still here, white T, fresh dickies
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| Still by my business and you still don’t wanna mess with me
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| And I’m lucky I ain’t dead or in a wheelchair
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| And I just thank god because I’m still here
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| Every multipliers, when you rise
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| Just so I could tell
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| People despise how I grind
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| Niggas wish I would fell
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| See the signs of the times
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| Tell me, will I prevail
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| Skeletons in my closet haunt me like some shit out of hell
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| The devil told me, they would forever control me
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| Left the trenches of hell now it’s on 'til I’ll OD
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| With the power of prayer
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| I’m standin' as tall as an oak tree
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| God protect me, don’t let Satan turn me back to the old me
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| God knows my heart and now that I wanna be sober
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| I turn it up, the (cheekin' piece?)
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| With niggas runnin' me over
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| Bitches are fucked, man
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| Lookin' at me is the problem
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| But I got hella respect when I will beat the shit out of 'em
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| Dear father, I cry and grip my teeth at the bottom
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| Mother society resemblin' a street up inside of 'em
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| Cold as autumn
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| I try to put my feelings in the past
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| Semi warm-hearted but the nice guys finish last
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| Blast shots through the night
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| Had cock to the right
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| Used to help a fiend
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| Put a crack rock to the pipe
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| That’s not for you to like
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| Boy you better run quick
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| Don’t regret it all but I used to do some dumb shit
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| Cats are used to run quick, turned to be fake
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| Take it as a life lesson, gotta learn from mistakes
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| On my every day grind, I be earning my cake
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| Visions of my enemies gettin' burned at the stake
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| Growin' up in the land of the folks and lords
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| In the town where everybody is broken board
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| Better back yourself with actions, not your vocal cords
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| You might end up in a local morgue
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| Grown cats acted just like they acted in the 12th grade
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| You had your mind right
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| You could be well paid
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| I rely on nobody, I’m a grown man
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| I make my money, eat out of my own hand |