| R.I.P., uh to the P-A-T, we love you baby
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| We gon miss you
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| P-A-T, rest in peace baby
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| Everybody knows, it wasn’t your time to go
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| Much love and we’ll never forget you, P-A-T
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| Now you in a better place, with G-O-D
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| The deep memories, won’t stop going through my mind
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| Wishing we could parlay, just one more time
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| It make a G start crying, just like lil' baby
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| To see his partna come on, heart goes to the T. Lady
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| And the rest of your family, especially Lil' Fat Pat fool
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| So rest in peace my partna, and that’s from Mr. 3−2
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| I never thought I had to write this song, for P-A-T
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| We gon miss you playa while you gone, you went I’m all alone
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| Staring at the memories, in the back of my mind
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| Comparing all the miseries, trapped in time
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| And in this rhyme ain’t enough lines, to explain how I feel
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| We gon miss you P-A-T, my partna kept it real
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| And this whole ordeal, is worth more than it seems
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| Like a worst nightmare, living our ghetto dreams
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| These streets are too hot, too hot baby
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| These streets are hot, hot, hot
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| We gotta run for shelter, gotta run for shade |
| Too hot, too hot lately
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| Too many my partnas, gone to early graves
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| You couldn’t understand my mind’s, on a whole nother level
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| I’m in the church every Sunday, trying to dodge the devil
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| I’m a rebel, with a worthy cause
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| I’m trying to shine, in a world that wants to see me crawl
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| That’s why it hurts, that Fat Pat had to take a fall
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| It ain’t fair, but we gotta keep our faith in God
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| Took in his prime such a vicious crime, we been robbed
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| I’ll fulfill your ghetto dreams Lil' O gon ball, he’d want that
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| Bet your mama tears trying to get us, see God got eyes
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| You can’t give a man life, so why you gon take a man out
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| P-A-T, S.U.C., gon make that dream come true
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| Worldwide on the map, dedicated to you
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| And Lord knows we gon miss you, ain’t no fronting or faking
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| At least now you ain’t gotta see, all this hating
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| Much love homie, from the whole H-Town
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| You brought peace to the Click, and it’s gon still go down
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| We won’t stop, but baby you was so close to the top
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| I couldn’t wait for you to drop, so we could body rock |
| But our God, is a jealous one
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| And when he wanna kick it with you, time will get done
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| It was just like yesterday, we was making Screws
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| And to tell you the truth, you got the whole world raising roof
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| And to my G’s before I pass, you never know
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| Mash for your paper, your homie Clay-Doe, P-A-T
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| We was just getting off of dancing, body rocking the stage
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| I done turned the damn page, seen the hurts and the gauge
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| Trunks pop tops drop, wide body on colors
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| Laid back on butter, watch my 18's stutter
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| I confess I’m a mess, so much pain in my chest
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| Wanna test my beef threats, hole put you to rest
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| F-A no way, I could ever forget
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| Put your tape in the deck, and bounce bounce to it
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| Ain’t no way in hell, I’ma deal with that
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| You took all of me, when you took Mr. Fat Pat
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| Took the body that we see, but his soul is in me
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| I’ma live his ghetto dreams, through Lil' P-A-T
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| Southside to the playas, don’t die
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| Only multiply, with paper in our eye
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| And don’t worry baby, I’ma keep all this under control
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| But I miss getting blowed thoed, in the studio |
| Living in this ghetto, while days are getting shorter
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| Reminiscing bout my partna, make the pain even harder
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| The time that we spent, getting bent paying dues
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| Dusk to dawn, into the morn' making Screws
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| On the cool, we gotta use it as a stepping stone
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| And really think, who the ones they stepping on
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| Like a throne you’ll be known, as a living legend
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| Fat Pat rest in peace, cause all G’s go to heaven
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| I’m too hot to drop, you marks must of forgot
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| I’ve been blessed with success, it ain’t no taking my spot
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| Fakers plot ands scheme, but I’m living they dream
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| P-A-T and Lil' Ke, the real Freestyle Kings
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| We use to take it up break it up, on screwed up dubs
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| Body rocking Southside, hands up in the club
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| But I still got love, and I’ma complete the mission
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| Rest in peace, from the whole Commission
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| F-A-T, you was the realest to me
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| And ain’t nobody, stopping what was meant to be
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| See all your ghetto dreams, is gonna come to life
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| I’ma keep you in my prayers, everyday and every night
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| Affiliated playas, gots to keep shocking |
| And Mr. Grand Papi, gon keep they body rocking
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| Open up they eyes, so the world could see
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| The Southside’s, gonna keep grinding for you P-A-T
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| Picture me rolling, from coca beaming Southside holding
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| So clean four 18's, knocking all side molding
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| Can’t stand it can’t handle it, I’m hurting god damn it
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| Of these niggas crew ways, on this bullshit planet
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| Called Earth since birth, the things that we been through
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| Rest assure through me, your ghetto dreams’ll come true
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| Never knew it would happen, it was at least state of shock
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| But as long as I’m here, they gon still body rock
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| You don’t stop Wreckshop, we gon still drop top
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| Neon lights at night, when the damn trunks pop
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| Bounce bounce to this, you will certainly be missed
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| As I sit back and reminisce, with our kin folk Chris
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| I hear your voice in the wind, as the nights get colder
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| Lil' Pat and the family, they gon ride on my shoulder
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| I told you it’s before, and that’s the way it’s gon be
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| Bro I love you dream of you, forever P-A-T
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| And I’m talking bout the Southside |
| Stop killing eachother, baby
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| Yeah, well well well, oh-oooh-oh-oooh-oh-oooh
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| Well well, thou shall not kill baby, yeah
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| Oooooooh-oooh
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| Get up on your grind, and the people stop hating
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| Stop haaaa-ting (so hot baby) |