| T.H.U.G. |
| Angelz
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| A Brooklyn tale, you know?
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| This goes out to all the families out there
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| Lost somebody to the drug game
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| Half of the hood fell victim to crack and AIDS, man
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| We had to follow? |
| The father was a cokehead
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| Cap daddy was a whore martyr, seduced one of the street walkers
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| Spoiled her with material things, a street talker
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| Old school, one ninety jewels and British Walkers
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| A ghetto prince, hood corporate project, apartment office
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| Had her laying up in luxury suites, bragging and sniffing
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| They had two kids, both babies born with addiction
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| Connect brought 'em in on a big investment
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| Had tears of that brown shit, that direct from the gold depression
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| Plague of addiction, increase profit, margin of sales
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| China white, took it in scales
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| For six months, the feds was filming his deals
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| For direct sales, he was hell without a bail
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| Padlock the condo, in the Honda, kick the door off the hinges
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| All the distress, and wifey sharing syrenges
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| Now she got them dilated pupils and the glossy iris
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| He got natural life, he got trapped with the virus
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| And had son be in the White House, nodding off the bundles he clipped
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| Burning the spoon he had an elephant fists
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| With shooting galleries, they found him O.D.'d in the alley
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| All of the wagers of his sins were tallied
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| They got hauled off in the black Caddy wagon
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| The heroine hurricane had them both chasing the dragon
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| She buy they worldly riches, they were consumed
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| Now pops gotta try to raise his daughter from the visiting room
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| He had a vision, of walking streets paved with gold
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| For that bank roll, he gave his soul
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| In the end all he had to show for it was life with no parole
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| As the BK Tale unfolds, cuz it’s the power of the streets
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| She had to watch her brother on dope
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| She couldn’t believe what he was doing in the bathroom
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| He told her don’t worry about it
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| And then he died on her
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| She was born on heroine, since a baby within
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| Minnie Riperton records would spin
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| She fell in love with the older men, the money they spent
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| By the time she was ten, starting using the gin
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| Been seduced by a pimp who was never her friend
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| One ride on it’s white horse, it’s in the syrenge
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| And you would never ever have no more worries again
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| He tapped her arm for the vein then he pinched her skin
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| She blacked out, woke up, in the back of a crackhouse
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| A down south runaway slave, was under the age
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| Her mother and her brother both turned in they grave
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| Wrote letters to her father who was up in the cage
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| He was sentenced to life til the end of his days
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| But the page kept turning, end in nothing but pain
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| And the more he kept reading, he was feeling ashamed
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| How the money and the fame just drove 'em insane
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| But he left down a legacy over some Hennessey
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| Now his daughter’s on ecstasy, end of her pregnancy
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| She was raised as a sinner, and death is the penalty
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| So he told her, he promised to seek some therapy
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| Cuz it’s the power of the streets
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| They got him in the prison
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| He can’t get out though
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| And the Brooklyn Tale continue |