| Man, I grew up in the south
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| Made a man out of a mouse
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| Barely talk about my life though
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| No matter how had it might go
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| Keep it inside, oh
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| Don’t mean it’s right though
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| South, south, south, south, south
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| South, south, south
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| I grew up in the south, south, south, south, south
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| South, south, south
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| Where I grew up it was tests, bare trials and tribulations
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| Bro got post-traumatic stress from violent situations
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| I was that kid on the left with a objected observation
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| Grandma spoiled me to death, distracted me from danger
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| She knew I could end up
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| She don’t say too many prayers
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| Had to mind where I was playin'
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| Cah when hunger turned to hatred
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| Ain’t no curfew worth debatin'
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| Any bed I make, I lay in
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| I could slip and end up sleep
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| There’s no pillows on these pavements
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| Still my family did their best
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| My father’s spot was vacant
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| We know where the nitties cotched
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| Dirty sheets and no newspapers
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| ‘Member this one day I got robbed
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| Thirteen, walkin' ‘round my block
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| He said, «Blud, what phone you got?»
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| No fear clocked but I felt naked
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| Man, I grew up in the south (Man, I grew up in the south)
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| Made a man out of a mouse (Made a man out of a mouse)
|
| Barely talk about my life though
|
| No matter how had it might go
|
| Keep it inside, oh
|
| Don’t mean it’s right though
|
| South, south, south, south, south
|
| South, south, south
|
| I grew up in the south, south, south, south, south
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| South, south, south
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| Yo, where I’m from, you learn to mind your business and write your lyrics
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| I don’t wanna bury no more bredrins or write to prisons
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| I ain’t tryna see my family argue or fight for pittance
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| Yo, they always say revenge is sweet, not like forgiveness
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| I left home when I was seventeen, blud, despite my feelings
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| Hate to say that it was meant to be, but I’ve been thinkin'
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| 'Bout my past and all these memories that drive all my decisions
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| I pray Jesus take the steerin' wheel and swerve them spiteful bitches
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| I got people I can never let down (Never let down)
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| Their physical bein' ain’t here but they watch from the Heaven in clouds
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| (Heaven in clouds)
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| It’s difficult seein' it clear with all these smoke and mirrors
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| Broken pictures, dusty baggies, woeful sinners
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| Me included, system says we’ve both been victims
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| Moved around so much in my teenage years
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| I swear down I still got motion sickness
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| Home, I missed it, so nostalgic and so distinctive
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| Dirty football boots in Banana Park, now the goals are different
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| Fuck what’s in your bag, man, my soul the richest
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| I grew up in the south (I grew up in the south)
|
| Made a man out of a mouse (Made a man out of a mouse)
|
| Barely talk about my life though
|
| No matter how had it might go
|
| Keep it inside, oh
|
| Don’t mean it’s right though
|
| South, south, south, south, south
|
| South, south, south
|
| I grew up in the south, south, south, south, south
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| South, south, south
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| I know exactly what the streets are missin', yeah, yeah
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| Put pen to paper tryna beat the system, yeah, yeah
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| I speak a prayer for my G’s, I miss ‘em, yeah, yeah
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| Then I hit the road and I complete the mission, yeah, yeah
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| My homie told me, «Bro, you be protected, yeah, yeah
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| Just be the voice we need and keep ascendin', yeah, yeah
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| We’ve been through struggles, learned some deeper lessons, yeah, yeah
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| So go remind them what they be forgettin'
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| Bro, you a legend
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| And you’re straight out of the south» |