| He stood in front of me
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| Everything that I was and what I wanna be
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| Shots fired, over a hundred G’s
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| And if it wasn’t be you, then who’s it gonna be?
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| I never been such a (?) or alone
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| Sat in the (?) but couldn’t stand for his tone
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| I’m out in New York with my hand on the phone
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| With a message to my Grammy saying «Man I’m so home»
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| I’m so home, I’m so grown ass man
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| But is it worth it?
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| Black man no perfect, white man no perfect
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| Praise his name, the hole blows sound, so sharp shit
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| That’s why a nigga proceed straight from Kirkland
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| A million leaders just millimeters from grabbing heaters
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| I couldn’t leave 'em, to call up my cousin had to believe him
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| Just to bow down
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| But we don’t see each other, yeah I’m fine now
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| But I don’t know my mother, she left me
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| America my foster care
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| I tried to get a hold of her, but I lost the trail
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| Tried to get her phone number but my pops in jail
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| I’m posted up on corners with rocks in hand
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| My big brother taught me how to go and move how a crook move
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| «Walk tall in the streets, don’t be shook, dude»
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| This is our home, it might be broken but it’s still good
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| You might be joking but you’re still hood
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| They think they know you but they don’t
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| They wanna own you but they won’t
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| They wanna say «nigga, what’s up?» |
| Woah
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| We’re not there yet, but I hear you whisper through the air vents |