| Yo… aiyo this joint right here is about
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| When you goin' through mad shit
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| And it just seem like you get out of it, nowhere and shit
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| You thinkin' you puttin' your shit in and you thinkin'
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| You gettin' over, and doin' all this other shit
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| But before you know it, your whole world just caved in on you, pa
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| Check the joint, it’s… uh-huh, yeah, I walked into the place
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| Verse one…
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| Over, and then my life (the masquerade)
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| I know it’s over… (the masquerade)
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| Uh-oh, over (over) my my my good day is over
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| (Over) the masquerade is over (over)
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| Uh-oh-oh, it’s over… (over)
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| Aiyo, back in '95 when I was jugglin' bitches
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| Pumpin' coke out the spot, smackin' fiends in the kitchen
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| All around dick sucks whenever, blowin' chronic out of Philly’s
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| Gettin' flusty in the Cub' Link era
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| Niggas tellin' me my spot is hot
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| They like I think any day now, playboy, shit gon' pop
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| Back then I was the phat Ghost, them came March 1st
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| My eighth platoon got murked, got burnt for all our work
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| After the funeral, I played low, countin' my last ten g’s
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| Three weeks later, yo, I’m back in the P’s
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| Gatherin' up information, checkin' faces
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| Keepin' a forty-five auto' loaded like it was bases
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| When it get dark, venom will leave my mark (over)
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| I heard a voice through a bullhorn, a white man he said «Yo, Starks!
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| You’re surrounded, put down your gun, look at the rules
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| There’s nothin' but cops, nigga, you better not run»
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| Yeah… you see how that went right?
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| That episode got deep and all of that
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| Knawhatimean? |
| Then it just go on and
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| It just don’t stop… I don’t care what town you from
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| What hood you from, it just all goes in, yo, check this episode
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| Verse two
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| Aiyo, aiyo, 11:40 A.M. |
| in the best Western
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| I’m with my bat, blew her ass back and chest in
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| Slob my knob, yeah no question, this my main bat
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| She thorough like that, so we don’t use protection
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| But the night before, my wiz must of check my phone
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| How the fuck she get the codes… I don’t know
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| Next thing, she layin' in the 'tel lobby, spotted me
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| Tippin' the doorman, holdin' hands with my bitch besides me
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| My heart drop, everything stops, scared to death
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| Told my broad to keep it moving, cuz I just got knocked
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| Don’t turn around, as soon she did, she bust a shot
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| Plus she talk, security drop when she touch the Glock
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| I had the gum-face on, long face on
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| Didn’t say shit, not even cough or spit, my bitch was gone
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| There goes the car, house, rhyme boats or jewelry
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| Court date judges, my shorty tried to screw me
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| Uh… you see, sometime it don’t pay
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| What goes around comes around in
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| In many different ways and
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| You can guess what happened
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| That’s right ya’ll, you know how it get down
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| If anybody got it locked, it’s God, that’s right
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| Word…
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| Hey Kimmy, how you doing? |
| What up Keisha
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| Damn girl, your hair looks so nice
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| Yeah, I got my shit done at Tasha’s
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| You know I don’t even fuck with that bitch
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| Yo, son, I think Ghost fuckin' one of them bitches, man
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| And can you believe this son told them bitches that he can cook, man
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| Yo, I can’t believe this, these bitches don’t know where to fuckin'
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| Put a salon up in the fuckin' hood, son I can’t even make no money no more, man
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| (Yo, son… maybe you need to tell them bitches that
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| If they could put a Ms. Pac-Man or somethin' in the back
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| Maybe we could get some money back, maybe we could get some money back there)
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| Son, you know I don’t even FUCK with them bitches like that, nig', come on, man
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| «Come on sugar, hold me tight» … — sample |