| I was block raises where the blocks raised and em shots graced
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| My nigga Ghana, we aborde planet back in those days
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| Fuck a low fade, I had two brains, dreams packed up in a suitcase
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| Two steps away from a dope case, bad registration and dope plates
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| I had no place, seein' all the shit that I did
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| 20 pounds rolled down at the crib
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| I got shotgun yeah in the door frame, own a gun ya gotta know how to aim
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| Way befo I eva thought about the rap game
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| As a way out I had it all weighed out
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| I’mma get payed in the day that I fade out
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| Changed on the hustle but I’m still on the same route
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| Layn kush on the raw paper, still think about how life changes
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| Chase heavy with the kilo, the results can be quite dangerous
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| But I worry bout tomorrow later, feel the whole world owed me a favor
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| Said it all (?) on stages
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| Say wrap yo fame for the money and the game
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| I think my soul needs savin'
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| (Hook)
|
| I think my soul needs savin'
|
| I think my soul needs savin'
|
| I think my soul needs savin'
|
| Lemme put it all in perspective: I know I live reckless
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| I should have took my bread and invested
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| 'Stead, I went and bought a necklace
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| And I don’t give a shit, I don’t give a fuck
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| I don’t really care about much
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| All the nights that I stayed up, drunk and blazed up
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| Niggas know wassup
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| Had to work this hard just to get this far, ain’t lookin' back now
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| Put a hater in the background, before I back down
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| We gon' go down just like? |
| nigga
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| In the club, no packdown, nigga
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| Caught yo band in the mend, goldgetters
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| Just mad cuz yo plan don’t fit us
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| No prince, no blood, no witness
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| Name dragged thru the mud like bitches do
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| Still made it thru, I’m livin' proof
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| Fuck an interview, nigga tell the truth
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| When I’m in the booth, keep the bullshit minimal
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| And what am I to do when they try to roll thru
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| I got both cuts blazin'
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| Always keep wantin' the change
|
| I think my soul needs savin'
|
| (Hook)
|
| I think my soul needs savin'
|
| I think my soul needs savin'
|
| I think my soul needs savin'
|
| I want the world in the palm of my hand
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| Failure ain’t a part of the plan
|
| Turn my art into money like wham
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| Gone to think it all started from a blunt and a gram
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| And will neva understand, the supply and demand
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| Either a couple grams wrapped in rubber bands
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| To a hunid grand for an advance
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| Niggas kill for it, somebody gon' die for it
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| Shots go fly thru the sky, momma cry
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| Yellin' why boy?
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| And I ain’t been sober for more than a few days in a long time
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| Ain’t get high, man, just gettin' by
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| So much shit on my mind, I don’t wanna cross that line
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| But it might be too late, some niggas just too fake
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| But I can’t deal wicha, or chill wicha
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| Think you been around in the first place?
|
| So I neva gave in, I caved (?) in
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| The grind is only motivation
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| I die for the day it ever gaves in
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| Body line code on the pavement
|
| (Hook)
|
| I think my soul needs savin'
|
| I think my soul needs savin'
|
| I think my soul needs savin' |