| I mean, whattup?
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| I mean
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| A lot is countin' on ya
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| Your women sidin' with ya partners, why they plottin' on ya?
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| We might never understand, no one’s there to hold your hand
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| Even heaven would agree sometimes, how this road gets
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| Losin' focus
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| Can’t depend on them, why do they depend on me?
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| They was all I had, I mean what made 'em go pretend on me?
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| Spirit of the sermon, discernin' moments I see shit
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| Can’t look me in the eyes then it’s somethin' you don’t agree with
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| Perhaps I’m too quick off the draw from how I deal with altercations
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| From where gangsters only talk cocaine, it ain’t no other language
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| Awkward interviews discussin' my inner views on life itself
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| Figure me pretentious, evading mischief by writing hymns
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| Labels shown interest, no showers are showin' interest
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| Both old ladies show resentment, resented my show of interest
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| Moved out from my momma detached garage and a small apartment
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| Shut the door or shut the fuck up, we fussin', we always arguin'
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| It sucks we always arguin', but she started it
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| Moms believe, I grew up on the farm with no understandin'
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| Kevin’s stupid, tell him anything, he won’t understand it
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| Stupid ass Kevin, anything, he won’t understand it
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| Stolen cars, open charges, matchin' blunts blowin' each other charges
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| Summer '08 me and Menance in a Daytona charger
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| Club exquisite, nigga know the business, pull off in the front
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| Ain’t no VIP, got nook in front, pockets got the mumps
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| Money come in clumps, what I clutch might knock out your lung
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| Keep that on the tuck, it go kkk if you uh
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| Got two people livin' in me, one the realest one a killer
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| Luca Brasi, he a sinner, Kevin trynna be a Christian
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| Seems life is less fulfilling when livin' is unattended
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| Performin' rituals to whatever God that’ll listen
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| Had a lot of prayers answered, ain’t had to sit in no buildin'
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| Run your flap, get your bap for a package, I’m in the buildin' |