| There came a life so bittersweet
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| Can’t waste your time looking up to niggas you’ll never meet
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| Belly simming and thoughts of your father figure
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| When your mother fill a void and your granny’s a begotten sinner
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| We on, like mass when niggas was skipping class
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| Paying bills underage, we was learning a different math
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| Autographs for your belongings, of all things
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| Heat here, steady revolving in Palm Springs
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| What’s up?
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| Excuse me, I’m just trying to get a little light
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| I went from starving ever other night
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| Life full of drama, they gone make a nigga take something
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| Take something, when I’m only trying to make something, make something
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| I’m only trying to make something, make something
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| I’m only trying to make something, make something
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| They be flossing like it ain’t nothing, ain’t nothing
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| They gone make a nigga take something, take something
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| I’m only trying to make something, make something
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| I’m only trying to make something, make something
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| They be flossing like it ain’t nothing, ain’t nothing
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| They gone make a nigga take something, take something
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| Yeah, nigga — we here now, nigga
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| This is dedicated to the niggas who said we would never make it
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| Listen, too many days I had a lot on my plate, not enough food
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| Young, trying to chop up the cake, so I cut school
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| Yeah, I was clinching the gate when the bell rung
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| Question marks in from of my name like Questlove
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| Nigga, I’m gone — I need the newest kicks, passed over like a Jewish kid
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| Stretched out — Jesus, felt like the crucifix
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| Still I get my prayer on, blacked out, my Raider on
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| Lord, I know you never will forsake me, let me play the song
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| Yeah… yeah… yeah…
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| I arrived from the Heavens to a street called 87
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| It’s crazy weapons, the way we steppin', the daily lessons
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| Of the younger, we go from hunger games to wanting change
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| To see a bigger picture, money is the frame
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| From Basquiat to Nasty Nas we paint pictures
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| Words hit ya like ancient scriptures
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| We leave ‘em for the young ‘cause we can’t take ‘em with us
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| I coach niggas on how to get green like Doc Rivers
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| The plot shivers and shakes, I give ‘em work over breaks
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| New winner, killed the beef, because I know the stakes
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| It’s high like Wiz Khalifa, my man hold a fist of reefer
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| Put down your arm so I can reach ya, I’ll greet ya… |