| Living broke is like watching a film that’s out of focus
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| They clipped a note right on his door that’s the eviction notice
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| Down on his luck lost his job feeling kind of stuck
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| D.U.I. |
| lost his license, he used to ride a truck
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| Girlfriend and two kids looking at him like
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| What we gonna eat tonight? |
| baby crying everybody tight
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| Chain smoking and pacing in front the building
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| Stressed and feeling like he’s disappointing his children
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| Fuck it, he bout to rob a store, decision made
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| Pistol on his waist, wild grimace on face
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| Automatic door slides open, as he slides in toting
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| Loud sound, bystander drops his bottle and broke it
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| Shoots him off the reflex the bullet checked em
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| Time stopped arm extended black smif n wessun
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| Half drunk, left him laying in a puddle off blood
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| God damn, dashing out the store like what the fuck?
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| Crazy work ethic, educated man of ethics
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| Well-respected at work, his smile infectious
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| Doubled his goal today bout to go home and meditate
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| To get his head straight spotify streaming Etta James
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| Loud headphones in the drug store, copped a Guinness
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| Got all his ducks lined up and feeling optimistic
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| He hears a woman gasping
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| Dude with a black jackets toting a canon walks in like assassin
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| The shock hit him dropped his bottle on the store floor
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| Cocked the 44 shot em and took off his jaw
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| Looking at hands bloody he hits the ground without a sound
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| And see his soul elevating from his crown
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| Vision out of focus as the colors fade to light
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| He hears his kids voice and sees the face of his wife
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| As his heart slowly tapers floating towards the holy sacred
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| If sleep is the cousin of death that statements overrated |