| A wise man once said that God bless the child that got his own
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| So I keep a look out for self
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| I help folks when I got it though
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| With the dollars or through conversation
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| I hollered at the homie with his hand out
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| Next to the gas station on the corner by my crib
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| Lit one in the middle, then I slid him the pack
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| Cause he going through it
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| Knew the story before he said it
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| Bet it all on a feeling he ain’t feeling
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| Children, got two of them, losing them wasn’t easy
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| But he couldn’t leave it alone that easy, believe me
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| I see it in his eyes, he tried
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| He finished and I sighed with him
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| Let him know that I was on his side
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| Even though I didn’t know him
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| Kind of felt like I owed him for the times that I just walked by
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| And didn’t show him that respect that we all should
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| What if I knew how much it meant to him just to hear me say
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| «God bless and hello, how you doing?»
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| Instead of tossing him a dime
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| When all he really wanted was a moment of my time
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| I gave him a pound plus a couple of bucks
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| And before he thanked me, I thanked him |
| «Thank you.» |