| One more road to cross
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| One more risk to take
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| Gotta live my life
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| like there’s one more move to make
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| I’m up at like 6 AM, to check this nigga
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| He work the nightshift, and I gots to check them figures
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| Knock on his door, peoples talkin bout, «He ain’t there,»
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| but the house is packed, shit I know he here somewhere
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| See money get high, I don’t knock what a nigga do to get by
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| Just make sure you gettin by don’t FUCK with you gettin mine
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| Ain’t the first time he ran off, shoulda split his shit then
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| Hate to think of what he’s did and if I catch him slippin
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| won’t be an ass-whippin, I can tell you that
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| I keep it real with this cat, he go and sell two packs
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| and run off (damn) tell me, he was locked down, up North
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| and you out a week later? |
| That’s bullshit!
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| I bust off, I need this dough
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| Fuck you think I’m here for my health?
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| I need this wealth, because I feed myself
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| You play with my life, when you play with my money
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| Playin around but this’ll be the last time you think somethin’s funny
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| Yo, I’ve been casin the liquor store, for a month now
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| with me and two other niggaz, is about to run up in there and shut it down
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| I got four people on the inside, one stay in the back
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| Two stock boys, one at the register but he count the stacks
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| Aight bitch, put on the ski mask, make sure that when we ask
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| for the dough they know that we takin all three bags
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| Now see that? |
| You gotta hero, shoot that nigga
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| Matter of fact, you hit the back, I’ll put two in that nigga
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| Hardhead motherfuckers always get it
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| I told him what would happen if he moved the nigga moved so I did it
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| Did you get it? |
| I asked my man as he was comin from the back
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| Nigga opened his mouth said nothin and fell out flat
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| This cat come out spittin, hittin my mans, his mans
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| Couldn’t control what was in his hands
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| I’m hit, damn! |
| I bust back, and got the fuck up out of there
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| Didn’t get a dime, but at least I got up out of there
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| Aiyyo I see it, try to avoid it, but it comes
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| That’s how it’s goin in the slums over crumbs
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| Somethin little becomes somethin major
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| Niggaz gettin blown up like a pager
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| Ear to ear with the razor, pour out my soul
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| Took control of hurt, why must Earl Simmons, swim in dirt?
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| I’m gon' make it work, twenty-eight and tryin to get, baptized
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| Priest cannot touch me cause he said I gave him bad vibes
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| Ryde, when I Die, straight down, but I’m plottin
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| We all gots to go but who wants to be forgotten?
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| I’ma leave a mark, and it won’t be the mark of the devil
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| Throw dirt and may your hands burn when you touch the shovel
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| The level of animosity is stoppin me from thrivin
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| FUCK what them niggaz is talkin about, I’m survivin
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| Alive and goin through it, but I made my bed
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| So now it’s in these flames that I, lay my head |