| I found out that I was, too young, not grown
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| I was, not ready for a world so cold
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| I was, not prepared to make it on my own
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| I was, not ready for what life unfolds
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| And it was, too much, too soon
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| I couldn’t tell if what I felt was false or true
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| I didn’t think about what I’m about to do
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| I’m on some, this couldn’t be real this can’t be true
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| I was too young, but these my people, so that’s okay though
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| I was down for anything, I’d do it if they say so
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| Look how they cookin' it up, I’d sit and watch their cake grow
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| Watching Robbie in the corner, he there snorting yeyo
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| And everybody acting cool like that right there’s okay though
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| So I walk over to him, and I’m like yo hey bro
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| What the fuck are you doing? |
| Get away from the table
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| He like, this ain’t nothing but a little bit of the yeyo
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| I got it covered plus I make the profit from sales
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| He acting like he hadn’t heard not one of them tales
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| The dopest brother, knocked him and they took him to jail
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| There go another, this hustler here was destined to fail
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| Convicted, but the last I heard he tried to appeal
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| And Eric, he gone he wilding, busting his steel off at the popo
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| These are the trial and tribulations of kids trying to act like grown folks
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| I was, too young to fall in love like Motley Crue
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| Too young, I pulled a gun and I shot this dude
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| It was over a girl, foolish pride, I was crucified
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| Just another youthful juvenile, doing time
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| Forgive me mama, I never meant for you to cry
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| Went to trial, I was sent to do a two to five
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| Handcuffed in back of a bus, forty of us
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| Life as a shorty shouldn’t be so rough
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| And I ain’t no punk, here you fix your face or get your face fixed
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| Facelift, predicate cutter, you get you face ripped
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| They’ll bust your shit wide open and make you leak
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| You better chill out, before I birthday cake your feet
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| Not a bad guy, I don’t wanna catch mad time
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| So I chill with work release in the back of my mind
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| But the guy that I popped wasn’t dead
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| He’s locked up in here now too and wants revenge
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| I got shanked in my bed!
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| I was too young to say no, too young to yell nope
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| Old enough to taste anger but not enough to smell hope
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| Thirteen years old, my beloved mother had just passed
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| I started puffing grass, drinking forties, cutting class
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| My father always used to beat on me and bust my ass repeatedly
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| I couldn’t wait to get a change of scenery
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| I never had a dream: nobody believed in me
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| These mean streets are the only thing I’ve seen defeat
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| I’m sixteen being free, chewing vics and percs
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| Caught a OC habit quick, and my life got worse
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| Cause now I’m sick unless I get a pill, so my head is filled
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| With deep schemes, my tolerance: I let it build
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| But when street dreams and quick cash is difficult
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| You find you get the same high cheap from sniffing dope
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| Now I’m shooting with the neighborhood people
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| Nobody could save me from evil, I’m a slave to the needle
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| I’m too young! |