| I got blood on my hands, I ain’t gon' lie
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| I got mud on my shoes, I ain’t gon' lie
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| I got real, real big plans, I ain’t gon' lie
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| I got a whole lot to prove, I ain’t gon' lie
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| I got blood on my hands, I ain’t gon' lie
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| I got mud on my shoes, I ain’t gon' lie
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| I got real, real big plans, I ain’t gon' lie
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| I got a whole lot to prove
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| Uh, sip from the bottle for shit that we bottlin' in
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| Goin' live but we not on the 'Gram
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| It’s the land of supply and demand
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| All my young niggas choppin' up grams
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| And them choppas, won’t pry from they hands
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| Packin' lead like they got a exam
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| If it’s beef, my nigga look just like home wreckers
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| They got they eye on your mans
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| I pray to God it’ll jam
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| Too many done died in these parts
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| So we gotta be smart if we tryna see August
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| Some niggas won’t make it past summer, regardless
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| I’m tryin' my hardest to stack my deposits
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| These niggas be lookin' at me like I got it
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| Deep down inside, though, I still feel as broke
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| As that nigga who just graduated from college
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| Scrapin' up change that got left in my pockets
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| I’m tryna make nickels turn into a dollar
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| Ridin' the train, way too shy to go holler
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| Just watched her get off at a stop, I’m a coward
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| Fuck it, though, you got a way bigger target
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| I’ma do it so big, they don’t know what to call it
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| Sound like a whole Lambo truck in my stomach
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| Bitch, I ain’t hungry, this feeling is starving
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| Gotta move momma from out them apartments
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| Gotta put 'Ville on the map, we forgotten
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| Gotta hit hoes, you hang up at your locker
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| Gotta get rich 'cause my granny pick cotton
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| Gotta make hits, 'cause if nothin', I’m floppin'
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| Gotta stay me in the process
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| Nigga dissed me, it was nonsense
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| I sat 'em down like his father
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| My nigga asked, «Why you bother?»
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| We shoulda caught him and mobbed him
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| I said, «We gotta move smarter»
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| Don’t wan' be the reason for one more sad song
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| I tried to warn niggas they wouldn’t last long
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| I hope that you see how they came and they went
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| They shots never hit but they made their attempts
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| May have a good year like their name on a blimp
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| But you know what it take to be poppin' this long
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| Dedication on another level niggas never seen in they life
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| Celebratin' all your first downs like they touchdowns, bring a price
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| Young Simba had a buss down, yeah, the Lion King on ice
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| Niggas wanted me to look the part, had to stop takin' advice
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| Put the jewelry to the side, had to find me, had to find God
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| Half the time, we be pacifyin', what they expect from us?
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| But that’s treacherous, that shows less of us
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| I need y’all to see every part of me, every scar and every artery
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| Every story that I can recall, then I can fall
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| I got blood on my hands, I ain’t gon' lie
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| I got mud on my shoes, I ain’t gon' lie
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| I got real, real big plans, I ain’t gon' lie
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| I got a whole lot to prove, I ain’t gon' lie
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| I got blood on my hands, I ain’t gon' lie
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| I got mud on my shoes, I ain’t gon' lie
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| I got real, real big plans, I ain’t gon' lie
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| I got a whole lot to prove, I ain’t gon' lie
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| Uh, lately, I reflect, on the times a nigga was low
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| I got it up off the floor, I’m stronger than ever before
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| I’m stronger than ever before, just like I planned to be
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| They wanna see me fold, it ain’t no thang to me
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| Thoughts when I was broke, «If only I could be»
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| Pockets holdin' hope, it ain’t no thang to me
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| At night, I hit my knees, I pray for better days
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| Then found the better me, I got my head on straight
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| Up, up and away
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| Just ridin' my wave, I ain’t ever gon' say nothin'
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| Nigga throw a shot my way, I just jot down names
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| But never gon' say nothin'
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| Know you be stressin', hate only block your blessin'
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| I’m never gon' say nothin'
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| Quit all that flexin', niggas live check to check
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| I’m never gon' say nothin', know that it’s destin- |