| This goes out to all my young brothers and sisters
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| Hold ya head, things ain’t always what they seem
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| I’m about to give you a dose of reality
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| Real deal
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| Nowaways, records are played and superstars are made
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| Still mothers in the ghetto, rent dont get payed
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| As a result, bullets are sprayed and their sons are laid
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| It’s no myth, in ghetto life, if you don’t fight you fade
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| Surviving in the streets, not a task for ordinary men
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| Growing up in the hood, young black and supahuman
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| Caught up in the game of blocks and cops run your block
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| Intercourse with witches and hunted by warlocks
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| For props, boos-hoot pop, another brother drops
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| He barely knew his pops
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| Now his little seed will barely know his pops
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| Tunnel vision like a cyclops
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| I give you x-ray vision with these supahuman eyedrops
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| My niggas in the ghetto, give it everything you got
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| Cuz until we reach the top, can’t stop and won’t stop
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| Can you feel?
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| The presha, the the the presha
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| Hand over
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| The presha, the the the presha
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| Journalists write articles cuz they can’t write rhymes
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| Ever since I was a youth I dealt in crime
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| Now I’m trying to reach the youth, to preserve what’s left
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| There’s a fork in the road, choose life or death
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| There’s too much stress, too many bullets for your vest
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| Temptress, suck ya best, exotic strains of syphillis
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| The rest, rest in the Earth, only the best progress
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| It’s you who think I see commercial success
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| Warning, this shit is real, this is not a test
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| And what I express worth more than a Lexus
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| Serve it like baby food, still hard to digest
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| Long ass niggas is mental slaves, I gotta protest
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| Baby in the crib, and dad got no loot for food
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| So he do what he got to do
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| Keep it real, I don’t playa hate ya
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| God my divine nature
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| Sent at this time to stabilize the structure
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| We should all live like wise kings
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| Now sing praise to the gutter
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| The blazed double X, concelead like a box cutter
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| Brothers should be teaching, not murdering one another
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| Word, to the mother land, kill the other man
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| Lord of the concrete jungle, and Tarzan was a black man
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| Swingin on vines vibin, been balancin the eco system
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| And since there’s no more niggas in the ghetto, here I am
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| (you got to deal with*instead of hand over)
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| Meanwhile, back at Supahuman Klik Headquarters… |