| Verse 1
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| Its kinda of funny how the world turns
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| I write a rap and let the blunt burn
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| Think to myself who i was just a couple of years ago
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| Now i have homies in my shoes doing time or out on parol
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| Trapped in the system
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| Fallen a victim
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| To their governments
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| Society lables you a convict when their done with you
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| Its like somehow, someway
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| You just cant over come this shit
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| Try not to get the third strike
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| But still you wanna come up real quick
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| You couldn’t get a descent job
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| Because you got tatts in the face
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| Pockets empty so you went and put a strike on your waist
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| I know exactly how it is
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| When your trying not to fall
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| Locked up behind the wall
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| Visitation or collect calls
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| Too many homies of mine
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| Getting caught up for crimes
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| Judges breaking mothafuckas off for too much time
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| And its a shame homies fallen a victim to the game
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| 25 to life and thats life in the game.
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| Verse 2
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| He was only 13
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| Influenced by his peers
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| Jumped in the neighbor-hood
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| And got a tattoo tear
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| All the homies gave him a strap
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| Yeah he didnt have no fears
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| Slanging and doing dope
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| His mind never was clear
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| He stared into a duration
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| That he soon would regret
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| Making mothafuckas bleed for disrespecting his set
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| He wouldnt listen to nobody
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| Went in one ear and out the other
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| Disrespecting his mother
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| Even stealing money for her
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| Now what was a shame
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| Was the homie was naive to the game
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| Thinking all he wanted to do in life was run the streets and bang
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| Until he got caught with a strap
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| Facing triple homicide
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| Tried and convicted as an adult
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| Now he’s facing 25
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| And thats life in the varrio
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| Thats just hows its done
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| You grab a strap
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| Cock and shoot it up for the neighbor-hood your from. |