| I 'member back when I used to get schooled
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| Talking bout when everyone I knew used to be cool
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| Running round brainless yeah we used to be fools
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| Grab a chain, pawn shop had no use for the jewels
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| I knew what I wanted had no use for schools
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| I got kicked out of, had no use for the rules
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| Then all of a sudden I’m shooting at dudes
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| A nigga couldn’t make slips of the stupidest move
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| Back when it used to be safe
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| I love Pecknarm guess I’m used to the place
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| Talking bout the trap yes I’m used to the race
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| Early morning bagging up in a room full of base
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| All for the love of the taste
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| They used to come and see me and it used to be laced
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| Remember when a nigga used to drink Hennessy chased
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| Now I’m so stressed my Courvoisier’s usually straight
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| A lot of devils in the game but I move with the saints
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| There’s nothing for a nigga to get your movement erased
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| You lose a nigga man you can’t get that shooter replaced
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| Every way that you ever thought it usually ain’t
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| I’m looking outside and it’s cold out
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| Thinking how much longer can I hold out
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| I’ve had enough and I’ve said it out my own mouth
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| I guess it’s in for the new, throw the old out
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| Skeletons in nigga’s closest let the skulls out
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| I’m out here on my own nigga no doubt
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| But if it’s on niggas strap it up and roll out
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| Christmas niggas wrapping up your whole house
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| I 'member back when it used to be hard
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| Old school days back when we used to be dawgs
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| Back when it used to be laughs
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| Bag of weed days back when it used to be halves
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| But a nigga’s gotta step up and loosen the past
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| I’m holding on too tight gotta loosen the grasp
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| Is he spitting real shit you’ll stupid to ask
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| When fake niggas can’t understand and make stupid remarks
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| Some niggas even think dumber like moving to clark
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| Like hes ever portrayed that hes a yute to be crossed
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| Niggas put faces on and get used to the mask
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| Then it’s like they get confused and lose where they are
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| Rolling with my yute in the car
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| Hes laughing while he holds a balloon in his arms
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| Thinking back to when I used to wipe poo off his arse
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| For him not to grow up like me I’ll be schooling his arse
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| On the road to redemption, there’s too many tasks
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| I’d like to tell my whole story but there’s too many parts
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| But anything you need to know all you do is just ask
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| Show him guidance so he don’t ruin his chance
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| Cause growing up got me thinking more wisely
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| Done a lot of silly shit to piss of the almighty
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| So if I got to his heavenly gates
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| And I was standing outside do you think he’ll invite me?
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| All for a couple of pound
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| The big spliff in my mouth and a cup of that brown
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| A.45 and a couple of rounds
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| To be the niggas well known to make duppies in town
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| The street life has it’s ups and it’s downs
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| Even the craziest yute ain’t as tough as he sounds
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| It’s just that fear factor got him off of the ground
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| The last thing he heard that brudda scream now he’s stuck with the sound
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| And you’ll never forget that it happened
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| That’s the way it goes down right from ghetto to Clapham
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| I can’t lie I’m upset that’s the pattern
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| That’s why every track you hear is infected with passion
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| I accept the importance
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| Them mad streets where I stepped in them Jordans
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| That’s why every time I open my eyes in the morning
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| I thank God just for blessing my organs |