| I remember as youngin'
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| Slummin' with my crusaders
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| Garcia Vegas, burglarizing neighbors for Segas
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| Lil schemers, countin' Beemers, Benzes &Acuras
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| It’s tough to count blessings when battlin' Count Dracula
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| Life’s fangs’ll drain yo blood in floods
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| Can’t wade in that water because of rogue scuds
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| Role models taught us you oughta just roll up
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| In life there’s no love whatever yo role was
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| Find wealth
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| No need to find self
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| Stand in line until you find your spot on a shelf
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| (Sold!)
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| Don’t mean to sound cold, got my soul singing baritone
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| Feelin' down low
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| To think
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| Of those in this winter with no mink, or folk
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| Weathering this desert with no drink to cope
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| Some chain smoke with no link or hope
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| Just dope, tree and a rope
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| You are the living truth of life ooh ooh
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| The fastest can’t run from who they are
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| I’d run from self but no man can run that far
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| You are the living truth of life ooh ooh
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| The fastest can’t run from who they are
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| I’d run from self but no man can run that far
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| Turn the page, eventually I hit a certain age
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| Learn that all the freedom was worthless when you’re afraid
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| Success can often be a perfect cage
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| Searching for a way to stay the same while the world will change
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| A prisoner, trapped in the regret
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| Cause the ego can’t keep up if they happen to reject it
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| Sometimes you want so bad to be respected
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| Goin' after it 'til you’ve left your happiness neglected
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| I’ve seen the weakness in grown men
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| Playing games with their pain, they cheat but they don’t win
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| Seen 'em feed the needle deep into their own skin
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| Tryna find a fleeting bit of peace in that moment
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| More success to fix what’s left
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| Take an even bigger risk like after this I’ll rest
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| Til he painted with the razor on his wrist a red
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| The color of lips, pucker up it’s the kiss of death
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| I’m Bustin' Loose, no Wilder, just a Pryor
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| And that debt was paid in spades and barbed wire
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| Later use eyes to weigh and move fire
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| Then moved crowds in wades with hellfire
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| Meet a fan, kick it witcha, take a picture
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| Sign both titties and give a pound to your mister
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| It’s been real
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| Realer than steel I’da grabbed before I picked up a pen and a pad
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| Shit, it’s been chill
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| Chiller than the look in the eye of a junkie when he’s looking to buy looking
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| to fly
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| Pyrex on the good eye of a broke stove
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| Pyramid of cans, tin foil with poke holes
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| Soft white girl break your nose and gets harder
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| Revenge of the Caine, the original Get Carter
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| Take your favorite star, make him into a martyr
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| Life ain’t Trending, it’s ending
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| See farther |