| Back home
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| Everybodys searching for somethin'
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| But all they can find is a whole lot of nothin'
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| Back home
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| Ain’t nobody hoping and praying
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| 'Cause they feel like nothing can save 'em
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| And they try to hold out but they can’t fight the fact that
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| Life goes black when the lights go out
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| But I guess you gotta just watch out for you own
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| 'Cause ain’t a damn thing free
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| Back home
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| Common:
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| Back home/ they holler «disciple: and «blackstone»
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| Same block they freebase yo we trapped on Where our grandmothers marched/The guns clap on The liquor stores, beauty supplies, and rap songs
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| I travel the world just to come back to it The crib got a lot of soul like black music
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| Im attached to it In many ways this city raised me/and gave me The drama, honor, and bravery
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| The streets seem hollow/ when I go to Chicago
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| It’s cheap wine and sorrow
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| Times is hard to swallow
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| In search of God’s tomorrow/i borrow words from the
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| Bible/and use them for survival/ gang rivals
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| Signs painted on walls like hieroglyphics
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| I tell 'em that this is all tribal
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| Used to do dirt/ shorty’s goin’through the same cycle
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| And trials like Michael/ tryin’not to stay idle
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| Back home
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| Everybodys searching for somethin'
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| But all they can find is a whole lot of nothin'
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| Back home
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| Ain’t nobody hoping and praying
|
| 'Cause they feel like nothing can save 'em
|
| And they try to hold out but they can’t fight the fact that
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| Life goes black when the lights go out
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| But I guess you gotta just watch out for you own
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| 'Cause ain’t a damn thing free
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| Back home
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| Ryu:
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| Back home it’s not Compton but close
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| The same problems exist and the pain throbbin'
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| And folks are so common
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| It don’t/ really bother us much we just swallow it/ uh Crack the bottle and smoke/ hope tomorrow something
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| Magical happens that’ll put me back in the biz
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| But the chances of it actually happening’s kinda slim
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| Back home/ we get the good life at a glimpse
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| In the form of a rap star, drug dealers, and pimps
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| I’m back home
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| Tak:
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| Back home/ I try my best to keep it together its cold
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| Like the Windy City streets of December
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| I pace back and forth/ looking for the courage to shine
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| But cant trap the source/ need somethng to nourish my mind
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| Only to gain some
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| Life or the dark winding roads we came from
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| But I move with the night/ so I’m used to the shade
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| And never lose sight/ bringing truth back to the game
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| Mike:
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| Back home/ we’ve got a lot of shit on our minds
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| We’re always behind on something cause there’s not enough time
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| And we’re non-stop/ bottom line/ doing what we gotta do To get some food in the fridge and stay out the hospital
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| BAck home there’s people calling us hopeless
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| People trying to tell us all we need is some focus
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| But focus
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| Focus is overrated
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| Cause you see every blemish and mistake and can’t change it Back home is Alvarado/ K-Town and J-Town
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| Or Little Tokyo for those that don’t know
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| Where figures shiver/ living right in the litter
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| Where kids write bigger/ right inside the LA river
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| On the concrete/ a symbol of our everydat way
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| Its that color and concentration over heavy and prey
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| And by the time the ink dries on this page
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| I’ll be half a day away from the place where I stay
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| Back home
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| Everybodys searching for somethin'
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| But all they can find is a whole lot of nothin'
|
| Back home
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| Ain’t nobody hoping and praying
|
| 'Cause they feel like nothing can save 'em
|
| And they try to hold out but they can’t fight the fact that
|
| Life goes black when the lights go out
|
| But I guess you gotta just watch out for you own
|
| 'Cause ain’t a damn thing free
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| Back home |