| Sometimes I zone out, starin' at the wall with the chrome out
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| I’m broke, but I’m black, so I can’t take a loan out
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| Judges sendin' me in, cases hardly gettin' thrown out
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| Lost in the system, fam, like I miss 'em
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| Had a smart mouth, so the gods probably twist 'em
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| On the floor leaking, til the meds come and stitch 'em
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| Little brother got that, cops pistol whipped 'em
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| Heard he in the gay house, faggot nigga pimpin' him
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| Thought he was a thug, look what the world did to him
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| Everything’s changing, everybody banging
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| Every where you go in this world, niggas hating
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| Used to kick ass, now he take it in the anus
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| Told his moms, phone hit the floor when she fainted
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| She a Jehovah witness, she blamin' it on Satan
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| Both sons locked up, spend her nights prayin'
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| Welfare washed up, living in the basement
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| Daughter on the strip, now, hoein' for nathin'
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| Moms got arthritis, hands keep shaking
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| Couple months passed, now she buried in the pavement
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| Fifteen alcoholic, whole life wasted
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| Can I rise? |
| And get to the laugh, through the cries
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| While I’m alive, the projects, the hood through my eyes
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| No lies, people relyin' or just enough cash
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| To survive, I’mma strive, to the top, before I die
|
| Can I rise? |
| And get to the laugh, through the cries
|
| While I’m alive, the projects, the hood through my eyes
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| No lies, people relyin' or just enough cash
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| To survive, I’mma strive, to the top, before I die
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| Little man gettin' tired of people making fun of him
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| Probably spaz out, if you put the gun in front of him
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| O.G. |
| hustling nigga, gave him a pack
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| Told him to, hold his head then he gave him a gat
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| Shorty coming through in whips now, he started to stack
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| Started hanging out with pimps now, started to mack
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| Flossin', his lady got pregnant, had an abortion
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| Cops raided his crib, took half of his fortune
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| The other half that he had, was the O.G.'s portion
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| He’s left with nothing, thirty thou', down the drain
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| Now he mad at the gate, that he fouled the game
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| He got knocked, lost his dough, right after, he lost his hoes
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| Did a year, then they offered parole
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| Five years, he took that, couldn’t wait to get home
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| But that O.G. |
| hustler, was waiting with chrome
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| He owed him, twenty five, only gave him fifteen
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| He thought, being that he did time, the nigga wouldn’t see him
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| But he did, came home and he was waiting in his crib
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| Came in his door, he had his lady, suckin' his dick
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| Down to the floor, he spazzed out, thought she was cheating
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| Til he seen her face was beaten, he had no gun
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| But he did start swinging, the O.G. |
| whistle
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| Three niggas came in with pistols, poppin'
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| And left, his last words, were 'baby, I miss you'
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| Can I rise? |
| And get to the laugh, through the cries
|
| While I’m alive, the projects, the hood through my eyes
|
| No lies, people relyin' or just enough cash
|
| To survive, I’mma strive, to the top, before I die
|
| Can I rise? |
| And get to the laugh, through the cries
|
| While I’m alive, the projects, the hood through my eyes
|
| No lies, people relyin' or just enough cash
|
| To survive, I’mma strive, to the top, before I die
|
| Son, started rappin at 12, by 15, he was sick
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| His whole hood thought he had potential, to be the next B.I.G
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| So many rap niggas, offered to put him under the table
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| But he signed with no lawyer, to an underground label
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| Everything was good at first, so he was feeling the vibe
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| I mean, he knew he was gonna struggle, but he was willing to ride
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| They had him on some pretty shit, and it was killing his pride
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| But he held it in, kept it all hidden inside
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| See, he was gutter since birth, he didn’t know about flossin'
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| Coppin' him new Benz, he didn’t know it was gon' cost him
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| He ain’t know if he ain’t blowin', he gon' wind up owin'
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| And that brand new car, they gonna wind up towin'
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| It’s more than music, everything is based on business
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| He’s a hard headed little nigga, never would listen
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| Signed off his publishing, and half of his spinach
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| Spaz out on 'em, and his whole career was finished
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| Til he signed to another label, and repaired his image
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| Got back on that hard shit, they ain’t feelin' him now
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| Hearin' boos, last year, he was killing the crowd
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| Now he can’t even go gold, he gettin' tired of the game
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| Niggas makin' fun of his name, he gettin' tired of the shame
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| Took it out on his dame, now he locked in the bang, it’s crazy
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| It’s how we live, yeah.
|
| Can I rise? |
| And get to the laugh, through the cries
|
| While I’m alive, the projects, the hood through my eyes
|
| No lies, people relyin' or just enough cash
|
| To survive, I’mma strive, to the top, before I die
|
| Can I rise? |
| And get to the laugh, through the cries
|
| While I’m alive, the projects, the hood through my eyes
|
| No lies, people relyin' or just enough cash
|
| To survive, I’mma strive, to the top, before I die
|
| Can I Rise?
|
| Can I Rise? |