| Most my OGs let me down
|
| Doin' cocaine, usin' codeine heavy now
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| I was wearing niggas' Akademik hand me downs
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| Now they formin' habits now
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| Kids I used to see in strollers started carrying weapons now
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| Wakin' up to shots fired
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| Lil' niggas gangbangin' over breakfast now
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| Scared they finna blow their brains out
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| Cops checkin' bags like it’s JFK
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| Why you messin' with us?
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| Squares moved in, whole block left
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| Rich niggas playin' Tetris with us
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| Diamonds on my neck stuck to me, they was pressurin' us
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| Hoes started running extras with them niggas
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| Most of 'em turned special witness niggas
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| Always thought of running, it was hell there
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| Momma was too proud to ask for welfare
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| Either you was Lance, Sebastian Telfair
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| Or you brought the pack and moved it elsewhere
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| We all dreamt of be being Prince of Bel Air
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| Teachers skipped the name 'cause who the hell cares?
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| How you let a little nigga sell here?
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| Wanna hold a pistol, nigga? |
| Hell yeah
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| NYPD playing catchup
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| LAPD playing catchup
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| Shorty changed my shit to Kesha
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| Why the fuck you playin' Kesha?
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| Put a dollar on my vision board, niggas took the money out the center
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| I can’t even manifest it, had to learn to be protective
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| Now all I see is these old niggas actin' like Peter Pan
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| I taught myself how to be a man
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| Made mistakes, now I see the plan
|
| I taught myself how to reinvent
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| Nobody asked if I need a hand
|
| Nobody thought I would be advanced
|
| Niggas live in Never-Neverland
|
| I taught myself how to be the man, nigga
|
| They was robbin' little niggas after school
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| I was taught don’t let a fuck nigga front on me
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| Hid the weapon in a paper baggy
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| Either show the gun or get the fuck from in front of me
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| Only God and momma keep me company
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| They the ones that saves me from my enemies
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| I can’t even see no similarities
|
| You was stayin' up for Linda Ellerbee
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| Ran the city, gave me hypertension
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| You ain’t got no problems you just hypin' tension
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| You ain’t tryna squabble, you just like attention
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| Put my life on the line like I’m Michael Bennett
|
| Shootin' warnings with the hopes you might get mentioned
|
| Had to distance from 'em, went a mile a minute
|
| Used to ask what they would do in my position
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| 'Til they start a sentence with «In my opinion»
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| Nigga no, I was livin' off of cold cuts, bread butter and a toaster
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| Say it on record so when a writer want a close up
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| You ain’t gettin' any closer
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| Niggas be hittin' me, «Man I used to love your old stuff
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| Used to do it for the culture»
|
| Niggas’ll use it to try to pay me with exposure
|
| You about to get disposed of
|
| Every time you call my phone, need a loan
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| Oh no no, I don’t even pick it up
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| Twenty years done come and gone, been the same all along
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| You don’t even switch it up
|
| Throw a chair, then throw a fit
|
| Throw the fair, wouldn’t throw the fists
|
| Where’s the love? |
| It don’t exist
|
| Momma panic, call the pigs
|
| You get out and do it all again
|
| Bunch of old niggas actin' like Peter Pan
|
| I taught myself how to be a man
|
| Made mistakes, now I see the plan
|
| I taught myself how to reinvent
|
| Nobody asked if I need a hand
|
| Nobody thought I would be advanced
|
| Niggas live in Never-Neverland
|
| Shut the fuck up, nigga |