| Roaches, rats, and apartments
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| Mama smoking, babies starving
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| Pistols loaded, discharging
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| I grew up in all of it
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| Ghetto, hell, slums, bottom, what you wanna call it?
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| Nobody role models, everybody alcoholics
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| The shorties either gang banging or they basketballing
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| Where niggas get left slain, stinking, cause they chain swangin'
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| And them kids won’t see they moms again cause homie ain’t aiming
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| Damn the streets changing
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| These lil niggas dangerous
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| Don’t even mask up no more, these lil niggas brainless
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| I got so many fallen loved ones, nigga out here painless
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| Don’t know when it’s my time to go, I keep that I’ma flame it
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| Wanna see me dead or broke, I know I need that motivation
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| Like if I blow my shot, lose everything I got
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| Put my hand out on that block
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| Become everything I’m not
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| Been through that life, I blew that check, lost everything I had
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| This shit just left me looking silly and my mama sad
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| No nigga never gave me shit when I was down bad
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| I was by myself in a 6 foot room, right there on my ass
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| And now I stack that shit and mean it like I’m on my last
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| I stay so low from fuck niggas like they on my ass
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| You know if I don’t fuck with you, better not cross my path
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| Niggas thinking sweet ain’t seen me in the streets, I’ve been in my bag
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| Better stay lowkey but I can’t wait to let 'em feel my wrath
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| Still trained to go, start doing backstrokes in the bloodbath
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| You wake up, flame up, pop up, post up, chill, don’t clap folks crack jokes
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| Still lakeside killers for white folks
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| Fuck the whole 75th, RIP black though
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| Started gettin' real money, I was 17, I’m 20 now, I’ma take it way back though
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| Fourth grade I was tryna be Ivo', shooting ball, playing round, singing rap
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| notes
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| Grammar school shit been throwing Ls up
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| Never knew what we all headed out for
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| Young niggas having real life shootouts
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| At my grandma house, had to move out
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| Started rapping, wasn’t tryna be a star
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| I was speaking what I live, what I knew bout
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| 17, had labels tryna sign me
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| Thought I might as well speak so I flew out
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| Flew back, had to see what I was worth
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| Hit studio, I know what I’ma do now
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| Meanwhile tryna make it in a war zone
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| Matter of fact, let me hold that thought
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| My city know, I ain’t even gotta talk
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| Pull up, hop out, white chalk
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| Now you see me, smell money when I walk
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| Humble with it no I ain’t tryna floss
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| Every real street nigga took a loss
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| Took a few, bounce back, shake it off
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| Had an X by my name, took it off
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| 150 Dream Team, I’m the boss
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| I came from gambling, toting, rolling stolen transportation
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| Police station
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| Look at me now, tell me congratulations
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| I got this shit straight out the mud, yeah no exaggeration
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| I just been focused lately, money got my mind on greatness
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| Can’t stop my grind for niggas, bitches, extra aggravation
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| And every nigga can’t be with me, I just gotta face it
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| Every nigga ain’t yo' nigga, read they bodies (?)
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| Don’t fuck with snitches, bitch niggas catch them bodies cases
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| Gotta leave my city, too much talent, catch a body, waste it
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| Get homesick, I’m right back, where that pipe at?
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| Same shit, snap right back, yeah it’s like that
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| The murder capital, everyday welcome to Chiraq
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| Born and raised, homicide on the morning day
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| Red tape, mama’s crying, it’s just the morning, wait
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| Bodies drop here probably more than babies born a day
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| Son and daughters dying, all the families torn away
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| The whole judicial system set to have you going away
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| This just my life, I spit the shit that I was born to say
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| Love or hate me, niggas bite me, bitches wanna date me
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| Say they ain’t groupies, they just like me, wanna have my baby
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| Tryna trap me, be my wifey, bitch you must be crazy
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| Bullshit and problems just come my way on the daily
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| Till I’m like fuck all that shit and just keep getting paper
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| More money, all this paper, solve all the problems later
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| They say more money then more problems, I want all the paper
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| The problems come along regardless, what solve problems? |
| Paper |