| I ain’t seen as much death, nor seen as much crime
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| Since the blackout in Queensbridge in '79
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| Everybody’s a killer now; |
| pimps, playas, and dons
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| Shorties on the block push drops and carry on
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| Niggas look through our window wherever we drove
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| Through the tint, to see if the Benz is matching the clothes
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| We the Queens kings, I used to view the cats that are old
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| Seeing things that made me real from my skin to my soul
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| Girls who turned hoes, friends who turned foes
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| Bad luck niggas who bring death wherever they go
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| Never sleep, it feels better to know
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| It’s all real though
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| Everything is real
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| Where we Headed now?
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| Up to more money, would be more fun
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| Leave with mo' bitches, carry more guns
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| Where we headed now? |
| Where we going, yo?
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| It’s getting real, son; |
| we gon' let it flow
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| Where we Mo' bitches, it be more dough
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| It be more fun, holding more…
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| How the hell are we supposed to excel from the street
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| Where the Jake’s crew face young kids who wanna eat?
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| Quantum Leap to this Black world, hustlers and ghettos
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| Self-made millionaires who tussle with the devil
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| Bust a lil metal lead, wrestle you, to the pebbles
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| On the hard ground, that’s if your guard down
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| It’s a struggle, brothers jump bail
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| To come chill with they niggas on the block, with them rocks for sale
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| On the horn with the god Shapelle, my Queens comrade
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| Yo, run and come in with the dime bag
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| Ayo, I need dat, I got to smoke dat
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| Send me some Chunky Black, so I could smoke away the pain
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| Try to find my brain, but the thought still remain
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| Yo, it’s on again once the death stunts these chains
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| 'Cause I been through it; |
| the drug game, I thought I knew it
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| I got knocked, took it to trial, but I blew it
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| 25, but only lived 20 years of my life
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| Took 5 from me; |
| got me wrapped up like a mummy
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| Now I’m in the system a.k.a. the devil’s home
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| Where they tell you where to eat, sleep, shit, and use the phone
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| Now I’m living with, drug dealers, and chain stealers
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| Bitch niggas who got knocked and turned squealers
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| Imagine, sharing a cell with a rehabilitated addict
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| Who love fucking with faggots, but I civilized the savage
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| I sat him down and made him study mathematics
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| Now I’m sitting in the cell thinking…
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| About this reefer I’ma get this weekend
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| On the V.I., I rather be… uh, damn, damn |