| I’ma take you back to day one, livin in this New York slum
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| It’s deaf to the dumb, only break bread with some
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| Moms left at 15, had no American dreams
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| To this day, I’m sellin to my cousin who’s a fiend
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| No one would got me but my older brother
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| Little did we know the dirt we did fell back on my mother
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| But didn’t care back then, that’s why she left like that
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| Now my parents became the street, and it’s best like that
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| Some nights I pray to God and ask him to pull my cord
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| Cuz times is hard like the opposite street’ll leave you scarred
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| Street wise with no respect for authority and shit
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| A chronic hustler of crack, a typical bitch
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| Raised by madu who strung out on a glass dick
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| But every now and then I blessed her with a hit
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| So she don’t have to trick
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| It’s prevalent amongst kids today
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| Hustle krills, stack dough, and everything’s okay
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| HOOK
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| It’s the emancipation proclamation under the self devised guidelines
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| Of self preservation and starvation (I gotta live)
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| It’s the emancipation proclamation under the self devised guidelines
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| Of self preservation and starvation (and I gotta live)
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| My life in this world wasn’t about diamonds and pearls
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| It was rough growin up around the boys and girls
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| After daddy left, shit was a mess, momma stressed
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| But I give her an award, cuz damn she tried her best
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| Holdin down the household, barely had money to fold
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| Christmas time, cherished our little shit like gold
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| I can’t front, daddy was still there for me, cared for me
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| But him and mommy breakin up was like a nightmare to me
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| Yo this is for the younger fathers and mothers, sisters and brothers
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| Success is nothin if it ain’t if it was with the others
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| We gotta make the best out of this terrible situation
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| If not for us, for the younger generation
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| We gotta break the chain, and deal with the pain
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| For all our people that was slayed in vain (revenge)
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| For all our peoples that was falsely framed (revenge)
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| For all our peoples that’s livin the name
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| HOOK
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| Let me show, I gotta love L.O.D., they put me under the wing
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| And then I teamed up with the most beautiful thing
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| In the world, cuz L.O.D. |
| we all we got
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| I’m a fans and my mans keep it like it or not
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| I know it hurts, havin to do everyday dirt
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| Police all over my back, feel like bustin them jerks
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| When I’m my road to the riches, I stay away from snitches
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| And them bitches, and keep my mind on business
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| Life was tough so I became aggressive like a pit
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| The only time I felt relaxed was when the blunt was lit
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| Thinkin me and my team can be tight like the gambino
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| Muscle in the hustle scene respected like Leno
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| It gets deeper than the words of Proverbs
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| New thoughts emerge, as I cop the squat on the curb
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| Thinkin the herb strengthen my brain like spinach
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| And heavy shine, flooded with ice might reduce my self spirts
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| Stick em, my life is so real it hurts
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| Like when I saw my pops bein driven off in a hearse
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| Like when I saw my mother bein driven off in a hearse
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| Like you school when the roach crawl out my shirt
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| Like on Thanksgiving when we got free food from the church
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| Back then it was DJ Red Alert and Kool Herc
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| Rockin been stripe knees and latigra shirts
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| Back then L.O.D. |
| was puttin in work
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| From the cradle to the grave
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| We all in the struggle, we gon struggle, we gon strive to stay alive
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| All my real people know what I’m talkin about
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| Watch each other backs
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| Word up, my life is nothing without my niggas, word up |