| To the top I go
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| Where I’m from it’s cold
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| But I don’t need this coat, keep my sleeves rolled
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| Got my city’s area code on my shoulder
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| 216 forever in my soul
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| Swear to God every single night it’s gets colder
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| No heat so we all around that stove like
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| «Fuck this broke shit»,
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| Petty ass hustling, couldn’t even sell one zone
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| Slim still workin at the store and the only time we ever get to eat is when he
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| brings something home
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| Everyday is dark here,
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| Praying for a rainbow to lead us to that pot of gold
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| And exchange those nights on a concrete floor for a bottle of Rose to pop that
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| bitch off like we suppose to
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| Never gave a fuck if we went gold,
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| I just wanna be able to say that I made it
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| Cause' real EST motherfuckers don’t fold, real EST motherfuckers don’t break up
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| Real family grows old, Real EST motherfuckers representing for the city where
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| they came even when they gone
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| And fuck this throne, ain’t no kings, no pretty princess, ain’t no queen
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| No fairy tale endings on the east side, just these broken bones and these
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| screams
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| Broken bones underneath these jeans,
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| Broken bricks cover up my streets
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| Friends outside trying to get their fix, while my first born in here trying to
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| get sleep
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| Motherfuck this rap shit, try burying your boy 6 feet let me show you about
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| real,
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| Try telling me that you can’t make it up out the city 26 dollars to multi-mill's
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| Face inside of the double XL, then try coming back to the east side still
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| Well bitch I did, and it’s still the kid, labeled a Bad Boy before this deal
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| What up Slim, Dub, Xplo, Dre, Swirv, Ash, my boy BK
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| And everybody from the beginning that bled with me knowing I would be here one
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| day
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| So as I roll through all the hoods that raised me,
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| Looking at the house of pain
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| I’m a runaway from the ones that pay me, hoping I’ll stay the same.
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| Can’t you save me?
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| Can’t you save me?
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| Can’t you save me?
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| Can’t you save me? |