| They shot him
|
| They shot him, they shot him
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| Oh my God, he didn’t even have a gun
|
| Oh my God, he didn’t have a gun
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| He didn’t have a, oh God
|
| He didn’t have a gun
|
| Helicopters over my balcony
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| If the police can’t harass, they wanna smoke every ounce of me
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| Breath is alchemy, see how the life converted
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| You tell me life’s a female dog, well I’m perverted
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| Go to jail and get murdered
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| Murder was the case they gave us
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| Manipulate the system so the prison could save us, ayy
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| Nothin' can save us
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| Foot Locker, liquor stores, undercovers bringin' hordes
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| Ten years plus four, little kids die at war
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| Mama wants me baptized, swimmin' in this blood shore
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| Shut down schools to open drug and gun stores
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| I see the floor, gotta flourish
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| When I’m readin' my horoscope, the vision is horrid
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| But you be soarin', stay woke
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| Rather die rich than stay broke
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| I was starin' though my rearview in my pitch-black locs
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| My notes reappear, disappear, shit is wicked here
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| Tragedy all over the screen like William Shakespeare plays
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| Disease, the grade, increase grenades
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| Disease, the AIDS, I seize today
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| Like Wade, I fade away
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| I pray today, 'cause life is crazy
|
| JAY-Z, a school for hard knocks
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| They want us crucified with stones and hard rocks
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| Ayy, bitch, calm down, what the fuck happened? |
| (Oh no)
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| Stop fuckin' screamin', what happened? |
| (Oh God, they shot him)
|
| They killed the homie? |
| (They shot him, the fuckin' police shot him)
|
| The police? |
| (Oh my God)
|
| The police killed him? |
| (Oh no, no)
|
| They just killed the homie, cuz (Oh my God)
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| Ayy, cuz, swing that car around, cuz, bring that chopper (Oh my God,
|
| the fucking police)
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| We finna kill these motherfuckers, nigga (Uh)
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| See all, we are VR
|
| Sleep in, the snooze, beacons, the deacons keepin' the rules
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| Creepin' in rooms, she sneakin' cheaps for the doom, cat’s kid in me
|
| Little cats killed literally
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| How these cats talk bigotry? |
| Like a Avatar forest, the machine talk, Jarvis
|
| Whatever they hand you, it’ll be ours
|
| Your hand’s stuck in the cookie jar, hold on to the sweet shit, beef shit
|
| Green jackets, the old cats, feel the heat clips, E clips
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| Blacks cover the white light, cats stuck in the twilight
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| Wildlife sees the wise life, stuck in hindsight
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| Sign bright, read, catch-up, it’s monumental
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| Don’t mind you, then mind you what’s in my mind
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| Intertwine you, then sign you and don’t get no autograph from Patrick
|
| Just collapse you, fuck the world for Cleopatra
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| Perhaps you sleep in your mattress, weak, stuck like a statue
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| A statue geeks, we attack you
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| Don’t at your street, we got ask you
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| Is this a cop-out? |
| Bring the cops out
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| Bring the pigs, you see the picnic
|
| We depict the indigenous people diggin'
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| Hold on to the life, we don’t go for the house arrest
|
| Then done trapped us in the alphabet
|
| Our outfits can’t get out the net
|
| Net ballin', an imaginary goal
|
| Shot clock, what’s your net worth?
|
| Chris Webber? |
| Mm, deep webber? |
| Mm
|
| Time out, mom’s house, etymology,
|
| Be lesbian, buddy, you better study putting holes on this muddy road
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| Buddy code, they gon' pay for takin' my brother
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| Nah, I say we need one Mike and they shot the brown one
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| Y’all done forgot the brown one, the new white Mike, rockin' the nightgown
|
| It’s ancient, they cover the past with his kid blanket
|
| Y’all sleep, y’all don’t see how the image changed
|
| Remember the time, nigga, I’m here to remind niggas, we kings |