| I done learned from mistakes like who’s my man, and who’s not
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| Like who’s gone run, and who’s not
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| Like who’s gone shoot if you shot
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| Who gone hold they own, who’s not
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| Who gone change spots
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| In the streets of New York, you can’t trust nobody
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| Niggas’ll run up on you with a 12-guage shotty
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| Loyalty comes free, and smokin' weed is my hobby
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| You wanna rob me, you gotta leave here with a body
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| When I was ten years old, I seen a nigga take three in the head
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| Probably around the same time he used to pee in the bed
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| I stayed awake, cause my nightmares was seein' 'em dead
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| Smelled the burnt tires peelin' after leavin' him lead
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| The killer fled with a fuckin' laugh
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| My heart pumpin' on blast
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| I just stared at him, slumped in the grass
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| Arms movin', fingers shakin', spittin' up blood
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| DNA mixed in the mud, another ditch to be dug
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| There I stood, stiffer than wood
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| See homey used to buy me candy
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| Now he’s gone, who gone provide his family?
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| My ear ringing, shoulda been runnin'
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| I never thought I’d be that sick
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| Damn, I wasn’t 'posed to see that shit
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| That’s when I thought
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| It was more than three shots
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| He coulda been aimin' for me, maybe he circled around the block
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| I turned around at my pops, he like «what happened?»
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| This nigga rolled up and just started clappin'
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| I can still hear him laughin'
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| It was a regular day in South Side, sprinklers and kids runnin'
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| All of a sudden, heads turnin', somebody did somethin'
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| This nigga name I forgot, fuck it, he lived around the block
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| Regular gettin' money nigga, but loved to clown a lot
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| Walked across the park, stuntin', frontin'
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| Diamonds in his ear, diamond watch on
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| Eatin' a bag of popcorn
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| Walked up behind a shorty, grabbin' her waist
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| She pushed him away, so he threw the bag in her face
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| She felt disrespected, shorty couldn’t accept it
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| Called him a pussy, told him she’d be back in a second
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| But he ain’t pay her no mind
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| Called her a bitch about four times
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| Stayed in the park, wit' no niggas wit' em and no nine
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| And them in no time, older nigga from behind
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| Swung a baseball bat, left his face all crack
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| Told him «Take all that!»
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| Hit him again, popped his chain wit' a frown
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| And left the clown, with a stain on the ground
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| Now all my days go by blowin' that sticky, icky
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| California made me picky
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| Chicken head tried to stick me wit' a hickey
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| If we, blow up quickly, stickly, somewhere tipsy
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| The location don’t matter, I’m South Side until they hit me
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| I’ll be DEAD
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| If looks can kill, I’m from the ghetto boys
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| But I don’t know Scarface or Bushwick Bill
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| My heart spills
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| For the kids that ain’t got nothin' ain’t got it still
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| And for my, cousin I lost
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| Humped over the steerin' wheel |