| No I think they tend to love
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| Knowing what I do is raw
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| Less I got a way to prove
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| First you got to tell me who
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| Will you love me?
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| Will you love me?
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| Like you love me
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| Tonight…
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| My mama didn’t want me to buy rap, now I rap
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| And send her show fliers, I’m asking her «how she like that?»
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| My whole life been spent on committing spite acts
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| If I did it for Sprite ads, the kid would want his life back
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| I hold grudges with no budging on low budget
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| If I’m feeling like it’s my last leg, I got no crutches
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| I’m so fucking ridiculous when it come to rapping
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| So much has happened, it’s numb and I feel like nothing happened
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| I wasn’t planned, I’m a fucking accident, running rampant
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| I’m the son of Sam on a sonogram with a gun in hand
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| My daddy learned she was pregnant, and he was so angered
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| He tried to end it, I’m no stranger to coat hangers
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| He getting livid, sitting in on the clinic visits
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| And now he waiting for drama like it’s an intermission
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| He take it out on my mama ‘cause he was into hitting
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| And yeah, that’s probably the reason my sister is into women
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| Latinos hating my music ‘cause they didn’t get it
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| If you think I’m racist, you stupid you little idiot
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| I am from a family of immigrants, understand me you simpleton?
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| I’m Latin, is your ass really listening huh?
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| They want me to be the monster they see
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| I’m outgoing, I’m do not shy from controversy
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| Somebody had to say it, no one brought it but me
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| So how the fuck you have the nerve to keep on targeting me?
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| Yeah…
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| No I think they tend to love
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| Knowing what I do is raw (It's so raw)
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| Less I got a way to prove (Yeah, yeah)
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| First you got to tell me who
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| So tell me who can I trust?
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| When everybody’s a snake
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| And tell me who can I love?
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| When everybody’s a fake
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| And tell me where I’ll end up?
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| When I been running in place
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| Just tell me what will it take?
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| Tell me what will it take?
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| You pushing me to the breaking point
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| You pushing me to the breaking point
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| You pushing me to the breaking point
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| You pushing me to the breaking point
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| Break, Breaking point…
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| People asking me why I’m so angry, I’m laughing
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| Asking them why they so happy, shit happens
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| I’m living fast, forgetting that I’m a little bastard
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| No getting pass the past, my life is spinning backwards
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| Shit on my mind, it will cripple your spine
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| I’m from the middle of the city with the grittiest grime
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| And I moved to New York before I’m hitting my prime
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| Now I’m paying double the rent to live with triple the crime
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| I’m so beyond this, no one slowing the progress
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| The Devil on my arm, knock my conscious unconscious
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| Living isn’t a gift, this shit’s a process
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| Everything I left is everything that I wanted
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| ‘Cause my heart similar to a pie chart, I give a little sliver away
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| Then I’m taking my part, in dive bars and my guys all on the top floor
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| Crying over nothing that matters, hoping they find God
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| But my religion is getting money, in God we trust
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| And it’s obvious to me, now that all we that got is us
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| The product of my environment but the Roc is nuts
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| So I gotten drunk off the anger I’m keeping bottled up
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| Bottoms up, now I’m staring at an empty glass
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| And all the women I’ve been with, well they just empty ass
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| It’s like the shit that’s significant isn’t meant to last
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| You never shattered my dreams, homie they Plexiglas |