| Yea Spank, what up my nigga
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| Sup, baby whats happenin'
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| Yo son man, look at this shit man
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| Times be fuckin' changin' man
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| Know what I’m sayin man
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| I wish we just go back sometimes
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| You know what I mean
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| No doubt son, you know we all wish
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| That man, but we goin' through transition right now baby
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| Son as long as I got my niggas with me
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| But let me reminisce yo
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| I’m about to take your minds on a trip
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| Cuz everytime I rhyme I kick 'The Realness'
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| Remember niggas used to take gold frames and snatch chains
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| Infact that changed, cuz the era of the crack game was real
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| Mad nights, I used to daydream
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| Wishin' I could be the next Alpo? |
| or Green? |
| for Fourth Ring?
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| I used to be magnetized to fly rides
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| Had a scheme to get my cream and eventually rise
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| I became a little nigga gettin' money type often
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| Livin' the ill life, sportin' Nike Delta forces
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| I saw Scarface and got my first taste for power
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| I never knew grams of powder could make bags of dollars
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| I spent hours writin' graffiti
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| And niggas like Smitty made gettin' rich look real easy
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| Remember when…
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| Damn son you takin' a nigga back right now
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| Yo, to all my ghetto legends, whether live or in the essence
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| Facing fed time or in a pearl white Lexus
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| Sometimes you gotta sit back and just analize
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| 'Cause nothin' moves faster than the hands of time
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| And I remember when the whole drug game was hot
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| Son a cop got shot, in Southside Queens
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| And tactical narcotics teams making headlines
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| Being big time could get you fed time
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| Undercover vibe, pouring out just like red wine
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| Mega keys, gettin' C’s 'bout D’s
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| I heard stories 'bout bulletproof 300 E’s
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| Yo the mind of a analist is mine so handle it
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| The way I right rhymes, considered a gift
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| I used to wish that I could be fly like Black Trent
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| Rockin' Fi-las, rhyme was the thing I couldn’t de-ny
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| I used to read about supplies gettin' busted
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| Cuz guys that they trusted, made deals with D.A.'s, minds corrupted
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| The feds estimated Fat Cat was gettin' millions
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| Black Ratti was the richest nigga in my building
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| Remember when…
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| Yea son was doing his thing
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| Before my story ends, rest in peace to Killer Ben
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| And live niggas memories you live again
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| Sometimes I close my eyes and just reminisce
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| And wonder how alotta cats got so rich
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| I can’t forget RK, he introduced lots of loose rocks
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| A few cops, and alotta sales from rooftops, yea
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| You shoulda seen the deez when Will bought the red 3-Roller
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| Memories of those days are golden
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| Yea, for all my ghetto legends
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| Ever burrough, all my niggas who was thorough
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| Yea, knah mean
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| Know what I’m sayin' son
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| Niggas was holdin' it down back then
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| Fat Cat, Tony Montana, Big Wall, Queen
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| Niggas for the team
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| Motherfuckin my man Supreme Magnetic and Four Green?
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| All them Brooklyn niggas
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| Alpo? |
| and all them mobstyle niggas doin' it uptown
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| Boy George all them Bronx niggas
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| Niggas was seein' money back then son
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| The Glory Days, know what I’m sayin'
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| Y’all niggas know what I’m talkin' 'bout, word |