| Niggas, bitches
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| Gather 'round
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| I got a story to tell
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| Hear this, hear this
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| Get the whole world
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| The Swatch bred
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| Thoroughbred, shockingly took two to the head
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| Knowledge me God, the shit I’m bout to holler is hard
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| From start, this little nigga had a hell of a heart
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| His pops, bangin that shit in his arms, broken
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| A young mind distorted emotions, is there an upside?
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| His brother got murdered up North by milletas
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| Ma-ma, battlin', cancer, of the colon
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| At the tender age of thirteen, watchin his world close in
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| Blood damn near frozen, from a heart so cold
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| It ain’t pumpin out the love no mo', and I feel that
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| Cuz God when you really need it, where the love at?
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| That’s why a lot of niggaz got more faith in they gat
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| Freeze that like a photo, take it with you and know
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| This lil' nigga bout to kill all comers for cash flow
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| His role model, the heat, cause it runs streets
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| His motto: 'Nobody eats but me!'
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| Finally this young thug turned pro
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| Used to show love now he got nuttin but hatred and foes
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| Five-double-oh's, hoes so deep
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| He the type of nigga that got it and break down a key
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| Remember me? |
| J to the A, R-U-L, E baby
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| Smell the beef, it continue to uhh, give em hell
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| Fill they bodies with shells and leave niggaz
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| with a story to tell, uh-huh
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| Listen up I got a story to tell
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| On the streets we got guns and drugs for sale
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| Cause you hoes know the game that we play is real
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| Keep your mind on the money and your weapons concealed
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| Listen up I got a story to tell
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| I’m prayin to God, know I’m goin to hell
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| If it’s out of my hands, I’ll let time prevail, huh
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| Listen up I got a story to tell
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| Listen up I got a story to tell
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| Shit, niggas motherfuckin' die for this shit
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| We do
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| Hustle hard from city to city
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| From state to state
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| All my niggas
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| Let me holla at y’all
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| Son in B’More, we scored more, than ever before
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| Copped the two door, six-double-oh off a raw
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| Show no love for loss since big eight be that lucky
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| Number, we slammed eight of those in Kentucky
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| Kept the currency comin, mo', diamonds
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| New clothes L.A. hoes that’ll ride us pronto
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| Once you, lived in luxury, you can’t leave it
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| Find yourself, turnin broke bitches into divas
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| Can you believe this? |
| In Cleveland we cuttin these niggaz creepin
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| Tie em on every block, til we shut down shop
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| So keep your glock cocked, one in the head
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| Push the five series drop just in case we gotta spit and spread
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| The alibi be simply, we was in the Carribean
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| With two of our women friends sippin Remi and Henny
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| >From there we’ll flow, to the Florida Keys and blow trees
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| Fuck a couple of hoes and spend some cheese
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| That’s how a boy’s life is supposed to be
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| Make our way to N.O. |
| cause we, Bout It Bout It
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| Then down to D.C. where they, cock it pop it
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| Listen up life is nuttin but the hot shit, from here to Wisconsin
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| Y’all niggaz can get it constant
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| It ain’t hard that’s like pushin dope in the 5th Ward
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| And just to get to God, I’ll go through hell
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| And leave the world with a story to tell, heh
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| Listen up I got a story to tell
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| On the streets we got guns and drugs for sale
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| And you hoes know the game that we play is real
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| Keep your mind on the money and your weapons concealed, huh
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| Listen up I got a story to tell
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| I’m prayin to God, know I’m goin to hell
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| If it’s out of my hands, I’ll let time prevail
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| Listen up I got a story to tell
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| Listen up I got a story to tell
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| Listen up I got a story to tell… |