| Another day, another dollar I make
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| Risk I take, for the chrome 28's
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| Momma said son, keep your head up
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| But it’s hard in the D I gotta get my bread up
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| So I ride '94 with nowhere to go
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| Bag came in, cause I moved the bows
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| The son of a player no love for hoes
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| And the year ain’t new, but it don’t look old
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| Should hit Northland see what they got new
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| But I’d rather hit the store go fuck with the crew
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| Ride around the hood blow blunt after blunt
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| Seem like a good day I ain’t seen a hook once
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| So I’m riding in the wood 'bout to pick my man up
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| Hit a couple corners probably roll some gan up
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| My man’s got his heater 'cuz the streets is cold
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| But I told him put it up because my L’s is bold
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| Let’s go… c’mon, roll with a nigga
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| Where we going? |
| I don’t know my nigga
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| Let’s blow, hey yo you got another swisher?
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| Light the gan up, c’mon roll with a nigga…
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| Just another day in the streets of the D
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| Gas on high and my tank on E
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| These hoes wanna fuck but they charge you a fee
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| And the work might cost but to murder is free
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| Pray and holler at my man 'cuz he owe me a few
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| Gan in the air, with a Bud Ice brew
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| Narco’s ride, so I took my sack
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| And before hop on the lines 'cuz I know its packed
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| Break bows, so I ride slow, slow
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| Hit the Coney’s cause my gas low, low
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| Cop a bag, roll a blunt and say to extras
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| And I swoop a couple hoes then ride up Dexter
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| Blow my trees, no stress at all
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| Gan in mine but it’s stress in y’all
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| Hit the crib get dressed as soon as the sun fall
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| Right now I’m just rhyming, timing my phone calls |