| I had my back against the wall
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| Been on my knuckles, had a lot and lost it all
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| Friends I used to know no longer speakin' anymore
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| They don’t know me anymore
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| They’re sayin' pray but don’t we all
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| Unanswered prayers make you feel like God is not accepting calls
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| And I just wanna ball (I just wanna ball)
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| Wishin' somethin’d fall through
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| Shots ringin', got the children duckin' under covers
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| The oldest one preparin' supper for the youngest of them
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| Oatmeal, hot dog weenies, and sugar bread
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| Father turned himself in, sorta feel like he should’ve fled
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| Mother fumblin' with a hand full of tricks
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| Asking God for a hand with the rent
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| Being fondled in the club when she strip
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| Tears got mascara runnin' down her lips
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| Save up enough, take the kids to the hills, but customers wanna see her do a
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| split
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| How bad can it get?
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| Subjected to desperate measures just to get ahead
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| If all else fails, prevail, get the bread
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| I had my back against the wall
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| Been on my knuckles, had a lot and lost it all
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| Friends I used to know no longer speakin' anymore
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| They don’t know me anymore
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| They’re sayin' pray but don’t we all
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| Unanswered prayers make you feel like God is not accepting calls
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| And I just wanna ball (I just wanna ball)
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| Wishin' somethin’d fall through
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| Wishin' somethin’d fall though
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| Bills due
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| Kids playin', momma prayin' and she’s crying in her room
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| Need some help, send it soon
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| Oldest boy, cutting school
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| As she sniff another bag, it’ll help escape her doom
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| Father gone, he been on
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| Same route that he’s been smokin'
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| That’s a knockin' at the door, don’t let him in. he ain’t focused
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| Streets calling, getting critical
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| Her son got a pistol too
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| On the kitchen table finding evidence of residue
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| Crack, man, them kids sellin'
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| Turnin' them to young felons
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| Mommy yellin', cryin' up to God, help me, dear heaven
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| Wishing she could do it over, asking for another chance
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| See her babies growing colder, life is getting out of hand
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| I had my back against the wall
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| Been on my knuckles, had a lot and lost it all
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| Friends I used to know no longer speakin' anymore
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| They don’t know me anymore
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| They’re sayin' pray but don’t we all
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| Unanswered prayers make you feel like God is not accepting calls
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| And I just wanna ball (I just wanna ball)
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| Wishin' somethin’d fall through
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| Life’s what you make it
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| You want it? |
| Take it
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| Can’t be a gangster then you sign statements
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| Rather take care of my kids than be famous
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| Momma left with choices, a lot of invoices
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| Either feed the kids, or you feed your habit
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| Damn shame, she always go and feed her habit
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| Wanna smoke 'till she eat, let me preach
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| Don’t go home for weeks, don’t let me preach
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| Man there’s realness in the ghetto
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| My people get gas as soon as they hit the pedal
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| Meek ain’t never lied, a life is really levels
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| See why L.A. niggas take, pebbles
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| I had my back against the wall
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| Been on my knuckles, had a lot and lost it all
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| Friends I used to know no longer speakin' anymore
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| They don’t know me anymore
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| They’re sayin' pray but don’t we all
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| Unanswered prayers make you feel like God is not accepting calls
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| And I just wanna ball (I just wanna ball)
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| Wishin' somethin’d fall through |