| I done been through it all
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| Don’t ask the way I shoot cuz I done shot (uggh)
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| Put a tank on my block
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| Fiend gone get the scene hot
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| Greens and rocks
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| Burnin' flesh
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| Have you ever smelled nigga?
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| Been tapped up, ready to die from mail niggas
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| Straight goin' to hell
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| But livin' the dirty, dirty
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| Havin' yah mama worry
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| That (?)
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| Tired of being blast at, but didn’t cast that
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| I done asked for my life, and right there was laughed at
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| But when I backtracked, (?)
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| Blast back
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| Told 'em to cast that, take these rounds and add that
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| But fact is you don’t fuckin' choose yo' wars
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| Or be like me muthafucka and do it with two guns
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| Check my war wounds (uggggh)
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| My war wounds (ugggh)
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| Every soldier got a story to tell
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| My adversarys get popped
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| Got me runnin' from cops
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| The ghetto life be a dime
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| Got me carryin' two Glocks
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| My enemies is bad
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| Chop limes of grass
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| Drive-bys and rags
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| And representin' red and blue flags
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| See I got fools from the ghetto
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| Like my cousin' Jimmy wear permanent metals
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| My evidence is satus with hoes
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| Bloody Polos
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| Pullin' in car do’s
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| And cut up Jabos
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| I’m down tah blast for my homies
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| And cash for my homies
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| Even if I’m old G I’ll be down to ride and die
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| If the hood call me
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| That’s why I be hustin' every day
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| Could you imagine me with no stash?
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| Like a bank with no cash
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| Tryna' drive a car with no gas
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| And fuck one day with no tag?
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| Shotgun with no class
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| Window with no glass
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| Or all you girls with no ass
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| See I’m a risky rider
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| Caliope crawler
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| A Down South Hustla
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| Plus a head buster from New Orleans
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| See I gotta be a paid nigga
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| A made nigga
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| Be the nigga to bust yo' shit
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| And the nigga tah be the grave digga
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| See my tattoos reveal some of the shit I done did
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| But the move of other niggas that bout it
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| Feel the shit I do just tah live
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| See I been scared, popped at, and shot at
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| But I live an eye for eye
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| So the enemies I ain’t forgot that
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| It’s real, shit’s real check my war wounds
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| This here real life, ain’t no fuckin' cartoons
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| I’m the Saudi Arabian death killin' veteran on the tube
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| Either me or you right here
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| Come back and hang out in my room
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| I done shot my rifle, trained to kill
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| Got blood on my fatiques
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| Once you in ain’t no turnin' back
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| Lay yo' ass over seas
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| Might as well handle your business
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| There’s no overcome to this shit
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| Be on yo' Ps and Qs nigga
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| Don’t cry like no bitch
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| You see a weak nigga, that’s a beat nigga
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| And fuck a stead nigga, that’s a dead nigga
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| Tell my mama not to worry bout me why I’m gone
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| If I die bitch, box me up and ship me back home
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| Bury me in the N.O. |
| with my stripes on my chest
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| Tell them muthafuckas that I did my best
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| Middle finga pointin' sayin' fuck Iraq
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| If you don’t believe me check my combat patch
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| I got a muthafuckin' story to tell
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| Nigga, nigga what?
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| A muthafuckin' story to tell (What?)
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| Fool, I got a muthafuckin' story tah tell
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| And every nigga in the jail cell knows it well
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| I shank niggas, bank niggas
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| Do mo' fo' show
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| Seven cluckas, fake dough
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| Stayin' way cut throat
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| I hang out, slang out, at hotel rooms
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| Up all night gettin' in gun fights
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| I strike my head on the wall
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| Seven Eight ward
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| Eastside, rollin' dubs
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| Call me big Snoop Dogg
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| Follow me, and you’ll see how Gs move
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| It’s written on my face
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| I takes my war wounds
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| Been around drama since me and my mama
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| Use to listen to oldies
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| That’s why I’m so old G
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| Look, when half of you niggas couldn’t come outside
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| When ya’ll was learnin how tah sing
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| I was learnin' how tah bang and ride
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| Fo' sho' bro, I told yah
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| Im’a gangsta soulja, blowin' doja
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| What a story tah tell. |