| Fast livin’got me trapped in this street game
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| Before i die i hope i have a chance to make a change
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| I’m at the time in my life when a nigga ready to change
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| I’ll be dead or in jail if I don’t shake this thang
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| feel like I’m trapped in a prison, slowly waiting to die
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| it’s getting harder for my people, yet we don’t know why
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| they cuttin sistas off welfare, these kids can’t eat
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| and it’s the children like? |
| turned out by the street
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| I couldn’t see it while I was outside slangin my rocks
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| servin’death to my people, commitin the ultimate evil
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| robbin’and killin’my own kind, Lord forgive me blinded by this life of crime, God somebody hear me since the death of my momma, my life is filled with drama
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| lost both of my kids, punished for what dirt that I did
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| I can’t bring em back, so I get high to forget
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| all the mistakes that I made, that time won’t let me erase
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| I keep my head up high, but I’m stuck in this game
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| Steady checkin’myself, God help me to change
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| If I could change, I’d bring my momma back from the grave
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| I ain’t got too much trouble cause we livin’in the last days
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| crime pays, doing broads can get you AIDS, gotta wear a strap these days
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| All the time I stay high, trying to fight my stress
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| jealous fool of the world trying to put me to rest
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| last night i had a talk with my momma
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| then the cry, asking god if she’d serve a purpose before she dies
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| you can see it in my eyes, a brotha wanta slow down
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| I ain’t mad at ya daddy cause you didn’t come around
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| I’m knowing that the times is hard, but you can make it You see the opportunity, you take it but what about my little baby, I got a mouth to feed
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| But i still wanta hang on the streets and smoke weed with the O.G.'s
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| my homies rest in peace in the game
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| I don’t think you’ll ever know the pain
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| I wanta change
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| Lord know, picute me ballin
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| trapped in this ghetto with my young G’s callin
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| Henacee and weed when they bury P a quarter key, 6 G’s, when they carry me fall on my knees to no nigga
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| trapped in this hood, raised by chrome trigga
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| never had a pops, a nigga learned to slang cream
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| should have been a chemist, the way i work a triple beam
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| life, is like a page, I wanta turn
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| I wanta make a change, but Lord you let my brotha burn
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| I done seen a nigga lose his life over zurcubian stones
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| everynight, my auntie bring a nigga home
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| momma worrying cause the rent late
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| 3 strikes, my cousin’s doing time upstate
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| I sent him Camel with no filters
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| I’m in the ghetto slangin stones with staight killas, ugghh
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| I know kids that pack gats cause they bout it, bout it
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| I’m from the murder capital of the world and we rowdy, rowdy
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| is there a heaven for a gangsta, Lord put me to sleep
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| cause your best friend turn into your enemy
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| crooked cops is dirty in this shaded game
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| go on take me out the ghetto
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| I wanta make a change
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| Chorus fade out |