| My daily dose is ferocious
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| I smoke dope, just as strong as opium
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| Hopin I’m close to just breakin frustration;
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| speakin on podiums
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| Facin this cold world head-on, dead on arrivals
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| Young black, poor education guns crack
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| The gang violence done that
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| Nighttime, the guns blow, streets got snitches
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| dealers, bitches, killers and blunt smoke, clubs open
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| Benzes, Jeeps, dubs pokin out tires
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| Thugs with heat, pay security, to let them slide in Huh, I’m at the corner driftin, sippin, Cognac
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| To’back, know dat soldiers is packin no secret
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| Though I’m broken hearted women done left me hopeless in darkness
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| Smokin, driftin in sickness, stand by oceans watch the sun glisten
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| I’m soul-searchin, I’m soul-hurtin
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| What happens when money don’t make you happy
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| I wish this on no person
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| Ate at the classy places, made all my fashion statements
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| I got no friends I’m lonely, don’t want no pity save it Yo, ride in the nighttime, I’m high, got on my flight suit
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| Hood with the night sign, dark colors on Pull up the block my brother’s on I hug him and we blow trees (sup nigga?) Scopin for police
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| Guns on our hip, fiends want a fix, stumblin tricks (right here)
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| We left the drug game alone
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| Brothers is jealous cause we still call the hood our home
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| What could you tell us?
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| At funerals my eyes swell up (damn)
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| Look at my dog lay in the casket
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| Twin shotgun barrels had blasted
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| And rest in peace for him, is all I could whisper
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| as I paid respect, kissed his face and felt hard skin
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| It’s part of God’s plan, but why so many niggaz have to die?
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| It’s crowded in this place, let the priest and pastor by Bandana covers my eye, I’m scopin through the room
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| I see killers and thieves, mob bosses and goons
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| And yet I feel responsible when my nigga’s pronounced dead
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| inside the hospital, I wish there’s somethin I could do, but. |