| There are five stages that one journeys through
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| On the passage to the darkside
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| Fear… anger…remorse…acceptance…
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| Each stage more tormenting than the last
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| And it all begins with…
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| The first stage, denial, that of course is when people deny
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| And lie to themselves like they ain’t 'bout to die
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| This shit get buckwild, I even seen people smile
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| And joke-crack, not knowin' it’s all 'bout to go black
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| Niggas be like «Fuck that, man I can take it»
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| Sixteen to your back? |
| You ain’t gon' make it
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| You 'bout to die, and you the only one that don’t know
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| And here comes the ambulance ridin' all slow
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| «There you go. |
| You’ll be aight. |
| Hear me? |
| You’ll be aight
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| Real niggas don’t die! |
| Real niggas don’t fuckin' die!»
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| Next is anger, you start cursin' everybody out
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| Even the paramedics too, cause now there’s doubt
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| In the back of your head, you think «Oh shit
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| What if this is really it?» |
| and start to bitch
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| Fear, which brings us to number three on the list
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| You seen your own blood, now you scared as shit
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| In the background, you can hear the cops talk
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| Sayin' «That's a damn shame why they’re warmin' up the chalk»
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| «Dispatch, we got a 416, scuzzbucket with 14−17 holes in him
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| Doesn’t look good. |
| Think we’re gonna need a bodybag.» |
| (zzzzzzzzzzzzzip)
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| Now here comes your girl, she wants to know why you can’t get up
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| The firemen grab her and tell her that you been hit up
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| She drops down to her knees and screams out «Why?»
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| Now it’s all dawnin' on you that (I think I’m 'bout to die)
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| Four’s remorse, got you feelin' sorry for the shit you did
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| Now you realize what goes around comes back, kid
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| Like when you shot up the block and hit three little kids
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| You live by it, then you die by it, can you dig
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| Yeah, thought your mama told ya
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| But now I see you on the streets, you a thug, yeah you’s a soldier
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| Five’s acceptance, when you take the acceptance
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| Into your mind that your life is over |