| Hey yo, 1996 was different
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| Lost B.I.G. |
| and shit we miss him
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| We need it back, we need the tracks
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| We need the rap to bridge the gap that exists
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| Tipper Gore said he cursed too much
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| Well I still cop those CD’s
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| FYI, FYE, ain’t really got shit on me though
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| Yo, till I blow like C4
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| Never wanna be a star or a hero
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| Got a lot of soul, so i never fold
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| Field goals like I’m playing in the league though
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| Yo, see gold through the peephole
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| Pay bills, no more repo
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| We hit them J’s just the same way that you hit your free throws
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| 96 was live, you can catch me in my whip
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| With a CD from the time when the music was the shit
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| I bet 100 on myself, so a 100's in my pocket
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| I’m going to the store and you know just what I’m coppin'
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| I been at it for a minute, and all my people know it
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| The years can take their toll, but shit it makes for better poems
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| So I’m trying to paint these pictures
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| These pictures get me lifted
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| They take me to a place where I embrace my inhibition
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| It goes, backseat windows up
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| Smoked out, boxed up
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| Two toned, two cups
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| (See me when you see me)
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| I got, one chance one life
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| We roll, no dice
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| We sold, no hype
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| (See me when you see me)
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| Give me a minute
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| So I can make a decision
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| I said, give me a minute
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| So I can make a decision
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| Hey uh, hey yo I never play the wrong songs
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| When I’m in the right mood
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| Catch me feeding that juke
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| While the barbers all choose
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| I got 100 in my pocket, the musics never stopping
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| Even when they shut us down we got, plenty other options
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| I said, give me a minute so I can make a decision
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| I’ve got a beat with a bounce and some lyrics revision
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| You can call this the hook, you can this the chorus
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| I’ve got a feeling you’re with me so turn it up if you’re for it |