| Ye' ain’t 'bout where you from, nigga’s 'bout you back
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| Make sure you have heart 'fore you stab it in a fight
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| Give a young nigga a gun, he going to shoot or get shot
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| Dawg and all these nigga’s crunk, won’t be able to get got
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| It’s an eye for an eye
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| Eye for an eye
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| Eye for an eye
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| Eye for an eye
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| Yeah, welcome to the concrete jungle
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| What tomorrow ain’t promise
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| And nigga’s shoot choppa’s like jumpa’s
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| Well, if you fake you get ate like lasagna
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| Nigga, these the streets that controlled by us youngsters
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| Twenty-five and under
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| In the great words of Sunny Cash, «Respect your minors.»
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| If ye' ain’t 'bout that life, it don’t take a scientist
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| To figure out you need to take a different route
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| Can’t wait 'til that day that they let my nigga’s out
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| Real nigga’s out
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| Sometimes you get put in a lose-lose situation
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| Kill or be killed, gray yard or probation
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| Eye for an eye, brother got shot
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| Long night, cold days, thugging on the block
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| got to keep a Glock
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| Yes, weigh my dough, if you really want to shop
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| Remember, I had none, bitches wouldn’t stop
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| Now I’m on top, bitches coming by the flock
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| Me and Doe Beezy got the streets on lock
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| Don’t play with them young’uns, they’ll set you on fire
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| Nigga, I don’t lie, and numbers don’t lie
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| Before I was rapping, I was living that life
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| Couple nigga’s left me, and these bitches ain’t right
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| Got to watch these haters, cause they living so sheisty |