| No ego trippin', just growin' old
|
| All up when I’m feelin' cold
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| Cause pain up on my soul seems to be all I feel
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| Watchin' my family fall apart, was all I never wanted to see
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| Cause I got love for one another
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| I’d kill for my only brother, even though he might be wrong
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| At times I’m gon' do what I got to do to come through every scary moment
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| Just brought us closer which kept us down
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| Remember them days when southwest Atlanta wasn’t even 'round
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| So out the reds to wet it
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| And say they actin' brains, relaxin'
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| And steady stackin' and pistol packin'
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| And trackin' is tired
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| I set it off!
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| I don’t be sittin' in a trap slangin' lil' peewees
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| Tell Mike, «Damn I’m 'bout to mess up my re-up money»
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| See, I used to wear my shoes until I couldn’t no more
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| Now I hit the store, when the lace get old
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| I wear Calhoun jeans cause I don’t like Calvin
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| I relate to my folks
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| To make you think this 'bout my third album
|
| This supposed to be the times when the moon and the sky turn purple
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| So watch this full circle
|
| Black wire touch red
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| Red wire touch black
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| Me and Big Slate got this drop wit some gator backs
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| And I’m thinkin' 'bout how much I make
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| He get the rims, I get the system and we leave him the tapes
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| Ya know what I’m sayin'
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| Who gives a damn about catchin' a charge
|
| It’s been a while since I seen my boys
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| One time for my potnas who got out today
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| Back on the grind, did that time, got that hide-away
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| Okay (that's right)
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| I just got to say
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| Two times for the crook who just got away
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| It done got so quiet now, I can here a rat piss
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| On cotton, one apple sport the whole
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| Barrel rotten
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| What it mean when you see the sun and the moon shinin'
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| At the same time
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| This God’s way, you dug your own grave
|
| The righteous path was laid
|
| But you chose to go astray
|
| Ay, out the war shit
|
| Wakin' up in a cold sweat
|
| Through the same ol' skit
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| Genocide
|
| ]From the inside, look a pit
|
| You lie, never killed nobody
|
| Let’s take it to the ol' school
|
| No you can’t
|
| Hands shakin' like a dog shittin' fish hooks
|
| Don’t stare
|
| Can’t help the crooked look
|
| It came with the face
|
| I used to steal from my folks
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| But now I’m straight
|
| Went through the neighborhood rat’s pockets books
|
| Ooh
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| You missin' somethin' of value
|
| We have you, got you
|
| Jumpin', dumb bitch, you gets nothin'
|
| Nobody knows the trouble I have seen
|
| My homeboy MD write me from the?
|
| 24−7, hell or Heaven, it ain’t no tellin'
|
| Will it be mo' sunshine for the due time felon
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| They gave him 10, do 3, self year, probation
|
| Law leaders not, unto no temptation
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| Yall know how it be
|
| You make a monkey move, lay yourself on the street
|
| You’ll understand me
|
| They don’t care nuttin' 'bout you
|
| In that cold cell
|
| Can’t do nuttin' but take what them folk give me
|
| I’m dead serious
|
| Them folk givin' away time
|
| Just to show us the good Lord keep lettin' the sun shine
|
| One time for them niggas who got out today
|
| And my folks on stokes
|
| ?? |
| just westward on Olympian Way
|
| Uh-huh
|
| And I just got to say
|
| Two times for the crook who just got away
|
| «Uh-huh. |
| Believe that.»
|
| «Uh-huh. |
| Believe that.» |