| What y’all know about them wild niggas
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| Devil child niggas
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| Have-you-kick-the-bucket-say-fuck-it-and-smile-niggas
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| The type to catch the Buddha buzz, slide up to the fuzz
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| Sayin «Officer, run your shotty before I catch this body»
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| I knew this nigga Smokey, sorta like his pistol
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| Barrel when you’re in peril and shit like that was wanted
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| But later that would die down
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| Sorta like many abandoned that he ran with
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| His block felt sorta haunted
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| His only solitude was wifey, word to life, G it seemed
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| They was together forever and now the womb had been seeded
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| He needed a job and the robbin wouldn’t do it
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| He wasn’t tryin to go out like Diquan in Strapped
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| Her mother was a nurse, her purse was chubby
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| From the hospital she found Smokey some work and shit was lovely
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| With some cream in here, feed a patient there, he had loot
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| And not a nigga on the street would have to get that pocket tapped
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| He’s workin in maternity and learnin
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| Seein much about the infant children
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| To be skilled in fatherhood
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| Stealin baby stuff home for self
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| And he didn’t have to pull the Mac-20 off the shelf and get…
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| Loose if a brotha can’t take no more
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| Loose if a brotha can’t swing it
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| Loose if a brotha can’t break once more
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| Loose if a brotha…
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| In Maternity, Smokey saw stuff, raw stuff
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| Make-you-drop-your-jaw-stuff, hospitals get sorta wild
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| He saw some babies shakin, awakin if they were fortunate
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| His soul was scorchin, it would have thinkin of his child
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| Later there would be no «Honey, I’m home,»
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| Strictly «Woman if you jeopardize my seed, dead up, I leave you wet up»
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| On the block, a flock of zombies entranced
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| By the peddlers of temporary ghetto heaven had him fed up
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| His job was gettin hard to fuck with
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| They had even had him stuck with the disposal of the stillborn
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| Poisoned by the nourishment, the ill torn soul from flesh
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| From the womb to tomb
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| Seein shit like that’ll have you crazy
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| That night he had a dream
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| And it was a child nursin upon the semen of the glass genetalia
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| Clouded nut after clouded nut
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| He woke and shouted «What the FUCK is goin on?»
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| Smokey was Swayze, it’s time to get…
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| Loose if a brotha can’t take no more
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| Loose if a brotha can’t swing it
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| Loose if a brotha can’t break once more
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| Loose if a brotha…
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| He figured there was only one way
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| As he rushed the runway lookin wild deranged
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| This was common, without any qualm inside he was tookin
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| Lookin at fiends of the pebble adored praised
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| Devil for lord raised from the crystallized tombs
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| Through fumes from the floor
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| Blazed the sole sacrificial altar
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| He chose now to halt the worship dealin that ultimate headrush…
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| The lead crushed, buyer or seller decoratin hell a flame
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| With the choir of the firearms to blame
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| In the mornin by the time the smoke cleared
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| Everybody seen the massacre, the local folk cheered
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| «Oh, thank the Lord Almighty,» the pharmacy was out of business
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| On the L a chubby widow cries alone because her man had gotten…
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| Loose if a brotha can’t take no more
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| Loose if a brotha can’t swing it
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| Loose if a brotha can’t break once more
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| Loose if a brotha… |