| Nobody there knew they would die before they woke
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| They probably started off a beautiful day with weed smoke
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| Out of last night’s pussy, the murder that she wrote
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| Cold sweatin from a nightmare, mind on a C-note
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| You leave the door with intentions of fulfillin your visions
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| Constantly sidetracked, thinkin bout who’s your man or who isn’t
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| Maybe it’s necessary — maybe you’re overreactin
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| Maybe your actual downfall is that ho that you’re clappin
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| Maybe your pillow conversations been controllin the actions
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| Maybe your homey overheard and never told you what happened
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| You look behind you when you turn the corner, cause death is promised
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| You done seen some niggaz go before ya, the threats are honest
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| And with that lingerin in the back of your head
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| You know it’s possible that you won’t make it back in your bed
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| The confusion and jealousy and dishonor’ll spin ya But then none come worse than when that gunpowder’s in ya If you my nigga, you my nigga til the end
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| Fuck a bill, fuck a bitch, fuck a Benz
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| Let’s toast til we die
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| Roll up the weed and blow the smoke in the sky — la da da
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| If you my nigga, you my nigga til we go One of the few I would take a bullet fo'
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| Let’s toast til we die
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| Roll up the weed and blow the smoke in the sky — la da da
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| The smell of marijuana wreaks often
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| I raise hell 'fore I speak softly, quotin the Knicks
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| Put at least a hungred grand on one hand, bought him a 6
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| Acknowledged the weaknesses that his man taught him to fix
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| We ain’t never left the hood, so we camcorded the trips
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| I done watched the nigga go from BET to the Bricks, shit
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| The slanted eyes what the chocolate thai gave me
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| I’m a bachelor, nigga you ain’t knockin my lady
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| A lot of these niggaz been jockin mine lately
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| And I hope you catch the long and that rock-a-bye baby
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| We two brothers, pitched outta different mommas
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| Close enough to conflict and put the shit behind us Your baby boy meet the daytime
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| Oldest watchin and these niggaz tryin to get mine
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| Remember back then the lines in your flat top
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| Hopin your moms ain’t the momma on crack rock
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| Keep my, mind on my money, and my head to the sky
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| I never really smile much, if you was here you’d know why
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| There’s frustration and fire if you look in my eye
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| The media fuckin me up, right hookin my high
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| Niggaz hated on us 'fore the game took us inside
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| Then they opened they arms wide, took the whoopin and cried
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| I got a platinum plaque hangin on the wall of my crib
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| And handsome’s one of the things they been callin the kid
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| They watch you close when you coppin all the VS stones
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| If you ain’t tryin to get it poppin, leave the BS home
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| I got a saditty broad that gives the best dome
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| And I’m blowin on some of the finest weed that’s grown, homes
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| You won’t know when they gon’dump a slug
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| But you can tell I’m gettin money from the line out in front the club
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| My whole click caked up, you can’t compare the dough
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| And if it’s only one bitch, then we gon’share the ho
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| (If you my nigga you my nigga til the end. my friend)
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| la da da
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| (If you my nigga you my nigga til we go. my niggarole)
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| . |
| la da da |