| Word up, it’s La
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| It’s rough out here God, you know?
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| Word up, yea.
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| It’s only love, doin this thing, pa
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| It’s only love that I’m givin
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| Yo, Earths are cryin, as they see their son’s dyin
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| In the streets, bitches are burnin like the bottom of an iron
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| Negativity is all that brothers see in my environment
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| I don’t work for the white man, cuz coccaine is hirin
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| My times is expirin, but I don’t care
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| All I do is buy sneakers, new cars and beer
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| When I need to buy estates, 'fore it get too late
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| But furnished basements, have my all crew, liftin weights
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| Drinkin liquor, see the real picture, your life is too short
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| Will you make that million dollars, pa, before you get caught?
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| Between stick-up kids and jakes, you got to make your own fate
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| It was another kid’s beef, my son got caught by a stray
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| And he passed on in a flash from a four-five shell
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| And I gotta believe in Heaven cuz the ghetto is Hell
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| What is reality, and the lifestyle of all men?
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| I need a mansion, twins, Heineken’s and skins
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| I don’t drink Gin to sin, leave that to raw-dick Kim
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| Cuz he too light to fight, so he shoot to win in the end
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| Madmen disappear here over the years
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| Accept collect calls from my penetentiary peers
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| It’s locked down for snow, I wanna live a better life
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| Know mad niggas caught by the Germans and drugs twice
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| Now they behind bars, told when to eat, sleep and shit
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| Transformed a three-year to a eight-year bid
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| Cuz he jooked a kid, peace to Mena, Big E, now Wayne
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| You’ll be home son, sportin fly Air ones
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| But in the world, yea there’s still shorties buggin
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| On a block at night bustin off guns for nothin
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| I’ve done that, I’m tryin to escape that, black
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| Little Mike just came back from doin four years flat
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| He was a hostage, trapped in a four-corner room
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| Shipped far upstate, seen light to the moon
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| Never snitched, that’s why he’s doin six plus six
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| While half y’all cats’ll go to court, singin like a bitch
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| These are the true facts of it, either hate it or love it
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| Stash your toast in my whip, in the wood grain, covered
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| But it’s peace, cuz I’ma fuck up cats with no grease
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| This track is for the niggas locked down and deceased
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| R.I.P., R.I.P
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| Word up, Parada
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| Liz, Big Gus, all my maniacs
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| Tracks, cousin Facts
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| Word up, Mena, Slow Joe
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| You know? |
| Word up
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| All mine, yaknowImean?
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| Gotti, word up
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| Salasie, knowI’msayin? |
| Word up
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| You know? |
| My man King, Ced Demon
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| King Gunner, word up
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| KnowI’msayin? |
| Ugh! |