| Praises to the most high
|
| I just hit a low
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| I just need some blue sky
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| Baby take me home
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| I left some truth inside ya
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| What is the make in a man?
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| Niggas be iffy I don’t understand
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| Black man, black skin platform
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| Elevator right to my demise
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| Coffin be looking to match my skin tone
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| Shift a couple hues on the pantone
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| Posthumous with a couple wack songs
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| As long as my niggas get paid, ay
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| Look at the sky
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| Look at the stars
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| Look at myself like at myself I’m ready for war
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| Look at the sky
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| Look at the stars
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| Look at myself like at myself I’m ready for more
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| Blood in my eyes I came from pain (we ain’t the same)
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| Everyday I wake up in haze
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| Look down at myself when I’m searching for praise
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| Baby can you hold me down?
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| Praises to the most high
|
| I just hit a low
|
| I just need some blue sky
|
| Baby take me home
|
| I be fucking up
|
| And I don’t every right my wrongs
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| You could pick it up
|
| That’s why I’m right here on my own
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| I was raised an honest nigga
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| A liar as a child
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| Smoke trees duck degrees, in the summer heat
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| Faded like the sides of my brand new hair cut
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| I ain’t got the du so my waves don’t flow right
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| ‘Round the time I met you
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| I needed summer breeze
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| When you let me in
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| I could barely speak
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| Never saw myself as a deep sea diver
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| The pressure holds me down till' my words get tied up
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| I could take the back seat it don’t matter
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| As long as we’re together then the shit gon' ride out
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| I could take the back seat it don’t matter, no no
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| I just need some blue skies baby take me home
|
| You could pick it up that’s why I’m right here on my own
|
| Praises to the most high
|
| I just hit a low
|
| I just need some blue sky
|
| Baby take me home
|
| I be fucking up
|
| And I don’t every right my wrongs
|
| You could pick it up
|
| That’s why I’m right here on my own |