| Walking round the house searching for all the just to my bullshit
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| I’m finally finding how hard it is to fight the sin
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| Starting to find a sense, when momma used to say child when you finish you
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| better light a candle 'fore you park this bitch
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| I light the cartridge, need to spark the sack to go and get a jump from Mister
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| and Misses who alwayys arugin'
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| Tossing up at the thought of them
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| Mention of the offer to send from the other one like a curse or something when
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| they both plagued, when they both sick like what you got?
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| How you get it? |
| They’ll lock yo ass up for this
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| If I can’t do it, you gon have to beg with what gon starve the kids
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| Shoulda known our is was here
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| Right round every corner
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| We was killing time and picket signs til slumber snuck up on us but, but, but
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| Ain’t I blessed though
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| And I’m stressed lord
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| Ya, ya, ya, ya, ya
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| Free all my vessels
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| In all context, though
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| In all confines, In all Congos, In all correctionals
|
| Momma told me
|
| Momma told me
|
| Momma told me it would be like this
|
| Momma told me
|
| Momma told me
|
| Momma told me it would be like this
|
| Momma told me
|
| Momma told me
|
| Momma told me it would be like this
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| Okay mama said go go
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| Pops said hit the ground running, get the dough, though I put your shit at the
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| door, though
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| Blood, sweat, tears for the articles
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| People in four doors
|
| We are in the age of the promo
|
| I been around killas and good niggas who live independent
|
| The only difference is the depth of your vision
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| Some niggas never been nowhere so they sight real limits and government house
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| and a bunch of niggas
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| It’s the same premise, different day, same pimpin
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| Pull a propaganda out the ceiling, pull a rabbit out ya hat
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| Pull a bitch, I got a batch
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| Bullet miss and hit a negro hit right in his designer cap
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| I hope them boys find him 'fore we find him cause my niggas ain’t fine with that
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| Don Juan, I’m prime with the ensemble and bomb at the wonton but the drama is
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| uncommon but nah
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| And it don’t take a gun to show that I ain’t fucking with y’all
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| I say it everyday but that ain’t make it this way
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| Ok, ok, ok
|
| Momma told me
|
| Momma told me
|
| Momma told me it would be like this
|
| Momma told me
|
| Momma told me
|
| Momma told me it would be like this
|
| Momma told me
|
| Momma told me
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| Momma told me it would be like this
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| All my niggas talk like yo cotton picking ancestors
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| That don’t make us stupid, we just deeply rooted
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| Saturday action includes stabbing and shooting, hit the church with bloody
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| shirt and mumble through the Communion
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| Amen
|
| Hey man
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| Say man
|
| Way back
|
| When we
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| Was kids
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| We used
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| To think
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| We was
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| Invincible
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| Oh shit we not
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| We drop like flies
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| From homicides every Thursday
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| Fuck it
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| I like bitches that know how to make grits right
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| Take dick like she might do Jiu-Jitsu, Hindu stretches in the morning
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| Pleasure my dick with nighttime privileges when I want it
|
| I’m fiending but I don’t need it to function
|
| I go dumb like locking keys in the trunk
|
| After the storm, harvest season will come
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| Watching porn while I’m chiefing a blunt
|
| These rappers corn but niggas eat that shit up
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| My momma warned me of the evils to come
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| I should’ve listened
|
| Momma told me
|
| Momma told me
|
| Momma told me it would be like this
|
| Momma told me
|
| Momma told me
|
| Momma told me it would be like this
|
| Momma told me
|
| Momma told me
|
| Momma told me it would be like this |