| -=Jacka talking=-
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| Feelin' the pain baby
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| You know what I’m sayin'?
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| You want some of that pain
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| Super Silver haze
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| Some of that purple stuff
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| Purple boy
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| Smokin' a stick of that Barney
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| But not the purple dinosaur
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| That shit that niggas dyin' for
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| Shit my niggas ridin' on
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| Sav wit the windows up
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| See the smoke pour out
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| Soon as I open the door
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| Soon as I go to the store
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| Voices like «Whoa! |
| Who got it?»
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| «You know who got it nigga.»
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| Summertime comin' up
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| Can’t breathe without it
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| Bring the Hpnotiq
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| Bring the heam
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| Mix that shit that turn green
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| Now break down the purple
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| It’s softly rough
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| Milwaukee Bucks
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| I’m from the place where they grow that stuff
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| You got your girl in the clutch
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| Just give me a light
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| I’ll take that bitch
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| If she ain’t give me head all night
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| Sellin' dope is cool
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| But rap is on my mind
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| It’s hard to do them both
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| And get my bread at the same time
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| High as fuck off purple
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| Man I’m out my mind
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| Gotta grab my strap
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| Boy it’s time to do some more crime
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| And all my hoes say
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| «Jack, you’re my soul inspiration»
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| Even though your soul crack across the nation"
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| Caught the cases kept me quiet like meditation
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| I say «baby I’m just really wastin'
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| A lot of breath on you for the sport
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| You think I’m nice but that’s really not me
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| I live the that you never gon' see
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| Niggas fight, they don’t war like me
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| It’s the last of my kind
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| There’s no more like me
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| Trynna make it on the street
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| Is like swimmin' through the sea
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| Trynna make it to the other side of life»
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| My young nigga say he tired of life
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| And now realize he addicted to the white
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| Got sucked up by the war
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| Trynna make things right, right
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| He said *echoes*
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| «It's rainin' outside and the difference between
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| Us is a white bus wit cages inside
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| When I come home
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| Still face the cop cars wit gauges inside
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| Yo on the real it’s yo rap is what kept me alive»
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| He said *echoes*
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| «How could I change I don’t know shit
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| War on the streets niggas trippin' over old shit
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| Fuck it make the coke flip
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| I’m a drug dealer but my father is a cold pimp
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| It look good but ain’t cool like cold shrimp»
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| Back in the bay Allah who Akbar didn’t understand what he meant
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| Didn’t force it on me for that
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| He and my closest homie
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| All my dean I’m in the life of crime
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| Allah is always on my mind
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| All the filth, all the crime
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| I see straight through it
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| There the hood go
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| Let’s scrape through it
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| Gotta be a real nigga just to make music where I’m from nigga
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| Sellin' dope is cool
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| But rap is on my mind
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| Sellin' dope is cool
|
| But rap is on my mind
|
| It’s hard to do them both
|
| And get my bread at the same time
|
| It’s hard to do them both
|
| And get my bread at the same time |