| When the guns come running out, they don’t care if it’s a sunny day, yeah
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| And they don’t come to play, they come to take your life away, yeah
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| Watch what you’re saying, watch what you’re doing
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| The who’s in front of you, when you don’t have a clue you better check it
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| Cause you don’t know who’s ready to press it
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| I said you just don’t know
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| What you see in your lifetime
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| Ever see your pops strike down, your mother on the face
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| Blood dripping down to the gutters of your drains
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| Screaming yelling a women utterly in pain
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| A boy and a girl just watching a boxing match
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| The boy had to let the cops in to lock his ass up
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| Cuffed in the back seat looking at his drunken ass
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| I wanted to sock his ass up
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| Momma went crazy and lost her mind
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| Lady that you never thought would pop a nine
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| Revenge on her mind all our poppa’s crimes
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| The drunken abuse and his concubines
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| Make a housewife go columbine
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| The gun was my uncle’s, saw him all the time
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| Smith and Wesson like distant relatives
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| Came and visited put us all in line
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| Tired of shit
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| Momma’s conscience saying fire that shit
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| Devil on her shoulder like «I insist»
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| All them times of flying fists
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| Nights filled with tears of them crying kids
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| Fighting inside of the lions den
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| Go ahead and pull the trigger on the count of ten
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| 9,8,7,6,5,4,3,2,1, never again
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| Hot shells falling down on the floor
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| Like little rose petals, she loves me or loves me not
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| Memories of my own war
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| Bang bang and the think tank go bye bye
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| You think you’re thunder but this is black rain
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| When it rains it pours let it drop drop drop drop
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| These are the stories that I take to my grave
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| Shoot a few rounds in the sky when I die
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| What you see in your lifetime
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| Ever seen your homie rob a store and shoot the damn owner in the face
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| Fifty bucks in the register, damn what a waste
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| Caught up in the crossfire while po-po's chase
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| Turn four fours until you can’t go no place
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| Gotta give it up now, man you lost this race
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| Caught a big fat case, twenty-five to a lifer
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| Now he’s in a cell where it ain’t that safe
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| Twenty years pass, he’s a lot older, whole lot colder
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| Can’t stop won’t stop, code of the streets
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| All he knows is, holding the heat
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| On parole he’s released, and the first thing he does is
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| Go to his peeps, and he sold him a peace
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| A nine millimeter that’ll blow you to pieces
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| Bring you closer to Jesus
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| Now he’s close to losing his freedom
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| Oh no, he rolls to the same store
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| Where he gave that old man a halo
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| Same ol' like the job before
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| But he had no idea who he was robbing though
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| The son of the man that he shot before
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| When he told him to go ahead and pop the drawer
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| He reached for the shotgun and shot a hole
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| Into the head of the gunman, he lost his soul |