| Shots bust in, cops rush in, on n**gaz hustlin'
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| You know the science of money is substance, the evils
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| My peoples live illegal, stack dough that equals
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| To large amounts, that’s hard to count
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| I blow an ounce and watch the plot thicken
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| We on the block pitchin', while the cops watch with optic vision
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| Listen, my hood is chaos, it never sleeps, crime’s got us knee
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| Deep in the streets, uh, between the sheets
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| I write verses, while the Devil curses
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| Watchin' young kingpins get put in hearses, the fiends lurkin'
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| For the dream merchant, their last days seems certain
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| He overdose before they close the curtain
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| Tryna tackle the grind, stress hard on my soul
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| And shackle my mind, makin' my heart cold and my head hot
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| Cause’s bread not, comin' in and I’m losin' my cool
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| Like the summer wind strollin' through
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| My goal is to stand on the bottom of my feet again
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| Even if it means robbin' then I got 'em in the street in Broad day and no this ain’t of God’s way, so I’m hopin'
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| If opportunity knocked, then mine locked, doors open
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| I’m livin' fast, but cash is movin' slow in motion
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| I’m goin' through ups and downs like I’m roller coastin'
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| Ridin', hidin' feelings behind a wide grin
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| I almost died inside when I couldn’t provide ends
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| Meet, wish I could say life’s been sweet
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| In street drama, the thermometer blends heat
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| Heat, I’m tryna find a way, depression is grew high
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| I search for a blue sky, but I’m seein' signs of gray
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| I got a line I say, if I come with two and combine a trey
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| Add a fourth, I watch how these words on a pad’ll morph
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| Into a rhyme, this might get me out the sewer grime
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| Many get stuck, few’ll climb
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| They pursue a crime because my city’s so poor
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| My n**ga Jay got killed robbin' his video store
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| Tryna provide for his seed, seed
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| He felt his world cavin' in before the day that he bleed
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| And indeed, greed will f**k your mind if you give it brain
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| Or give it head, that’s one the same
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| As long as blood’s runnin' through my hundred veins
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| It’ll come together whether the weather is sun or rain
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| It’s been another murder, where it never shine, shine
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| Hustlers off in these streets, agin' like fine wine
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| Ever the lost souls at the age of nine, grind
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| Grew eyes in the back of my head for who behind mine
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| That backstab, smack dab in your stacked abs
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| 'Til it black scab, feel the pressure like cracked crab
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| They say the streets is watchin'
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| When clicks meet they leave you six feet inboxed in The block’s been good to the hood, got hella bad
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| Some young fellas that caught slippin', can tell he sad
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| F**k it, that’s how it go, you just got to keep your eyes peeled
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| Heard about some guys killed inside my old junior high’s field
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| They said a crackhead did it for white powder
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| He fiendin' and so he left 'em leanin', I seen 'em
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| To just a day ago, that’s the way it go Where they ain’t payin' dough, so get to layin' low
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| Man, make you wanna do somethin' crazy man
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| Get on that Tupac, Juice tip
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| Get to robbin' a liquor store or somethin' |