| Dear Homie, whats the hap, since your up in the sky?
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| With God by your side
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| Homie what’s it like?
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| I know your bein' treated right
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| No more worries
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| Plus you’re bein heard G
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| I guess you know niggas is still trippin
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| I don’t know why, they see a future in it
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| We’re headed for self-destruction
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| Can’t function
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| Only thing I can do is pray
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| And thank God, for another day
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| Yes Homie, it’s rough down here. |
| I gotta watch my back
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| Cos it’s hard being black
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| If it ain’t the other
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| It’s my own colour
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| Tryin to work me
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| Tryin to hurt me
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| Ain’t no L-O-V-E
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| Please tell me why, Dear Homie
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| Dear Homie, gang-bangin ain’t joke
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| And I’m lookin over ya loc
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| Always knew there was fools out to get me
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| I didn’t even hear the gunshots till after the slugs hit me
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| I grabbed for my chest and my neck, hopin
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| When my head hit the ground my skull busted open
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| You used to ask for my advice
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| Well Dear Homie, dyin ain’t nothin nice
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| And the place I’m at is overpacked
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| With young blacks who crash crack and gats
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| I can only pray
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| You don’t come this way
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| You gotta stay alive, you got a kid G
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| I feel ya partner but I worry alot
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| Bust shots
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| I know you’re tryin' to comfort me
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| But I don’t want no company, Homie
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| Dear Homie, even though you’re gone
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| I still fell your presence
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| Sometimes I can sleep
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| Cos I just can’t see
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| Reality like it really should be seen
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| I still reminisce on how we used to kick it
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| Strollin' the yard, just hangin' out together
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| Down for whatever, whenever
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| And now I’m hopin, you’re seeing a true friend in me
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| We where meant to be
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| Dear Homie, you used to call me O. G
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| Now ya really gotta look up to me
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| Cos the place I’m at, is way high in the sky
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| I didn’t want to die
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| But the life I lived was just to reckless
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| Too many bad marks on God’s checklist
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| And many many brothers will go out
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| Just tryin to get that hard-core street clout
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| But a street reps final test, is when you’re lying in a coffin
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| With you’re hands folded on your chest
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| Then ya hear the girls cry
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| Then ya hear the brothers lie
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| Talkin' about how down you was
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| Then the next week the back on the street, they cold forgot ya cuz'
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| Don’t wanna see ya on your back
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| So for me stay sucka free, cos you don’t need that, Homie
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| Dear Homie…
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| Dear Homie…
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| Ya know I miss ya Homie… |