| We all infested maggot brain infected
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| Accepted no other ways just methods
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| To live life hours to minutes upon seconds
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| Upon crime upon jail upon time
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| It used to be all gravy now its all grave
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| Baby G’s on the block dont know how to behave
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| They just a slave to the guns and hums from shoulder straps
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| Migratin' in the parlors all across the map
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| The phones tapped with the source sayin so da feds way
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| With strong evidence but still the cops take
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| The crime scenes littered with drugs and submachines
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| Thugs with open spleens got shot up for cream
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| The American Dream is full blown
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| My half grown niggas in they 1 point 5 aya (area) homes
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| The end o' the loan
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| No its no need for a loan
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| The streets and the bank colateral has smoked weed to crank
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| Who do ya' thank?
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| The government corners and fiends but tippin' the beams
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| Niggas gettin' paper and rings
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| Money machines is jammed cuz' the count is extreme
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| My D.E.A. |
| moves in swift with S.W.A.T. |
| teams
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| Will rush into the sound of flushing
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| Guns busting, fingerprint dusting, handcuffing
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| But will be out soon
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| We all infested maggot brain infected
|
| Aceepted no other ways just methods
|
| To live life hours to minutes up on seconds
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| Upon crime upon jail upon time
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| Cuz young minds with black 9's
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| On bus lines
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| Rob you for yours
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| Rob me for mines
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| He’s looking out his window checkin' the streets
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| For my villa town cars and F.B.I sweeps
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| Involved and caught up in a world so deep
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| That he barracades doors just to sleep
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| And even if he does
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| He still has dreams of what was
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| Occupatious smugglin' dope through weigh stations
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| With coke in the bumper |