| — This is the time for us to come off of our knees and stand up to make a
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| difference in our communities
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| — I am not afraid of them, and I’m trying to instill in my neighbors,
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| there’s no need for us to be afraid
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| — No matter what City Hall says and promises, people in this community,
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| still very much intimidated by the Rolling 60s
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| One Rolling 60s hangout is just outside this grammar school, where parents are
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| reluctant to go on camera talking about the gang or their fears of it
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| — You walk down that street?
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| — Nope, I don’t
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| — Why's that?
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| — Um, well, it’s too much activities going on down that street
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| Look, see, I was, born in the '80s and raised in the 60s
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| My pockets were full of 5s, shoe boxes were full of 50s
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| Slauson, nigga, come on, follow and get with me
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| Sellin' dope for that Rolex chain and some fresh Dickies
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| I was duckin' them choppers with burners in my stash box and
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| Swallowin' rocks while runnin' from them CRASH cops
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| Nights, I kept it on my hip, the Johnny hot, shit
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| Nights I left it in my dresser, homies got chipped
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| To be kill or be killed, and I ain’t talkin' poetry
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| If niggas ain’t snitchin', then how the fuck they know it’s me?
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| Catch me breakin' nine zones down, nigga, that’s a quarter ki
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| And sellin' work to big homies, my older G’s
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| In a luxury set, my chrome thang’s gettin' blunted
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| Fuck it, I’m feeling good, I got two per set of hundred
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| Money was never nothin' 'cause these blocks was Rollin'
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| And the spot stay poppin' 'cause my rocks was swollen
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| You know that I’m a hustla, so, you know
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| I’ma always stay paid
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| You know that I’m a hoodsta, so, you know
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| I never turn down a fade
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| You know that I’m a hustla hustla hustla
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| You know that I’m a hood, hood, hood
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| You know that I’m a hustla hustla hustla
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| You know that I’m hood, hood, hood, hood
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| Granny, they still shootin', I can’t get no sleep
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| And it’s too late to change 'cause I’m in too deep
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| Niggas gon' ride to the shit I’m sayin', that’s on the real
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| Niggas done died for this shit I’m claimin'
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| From over here to Western Ave, yeah we run that
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| Hop out and bust a nigga head, yeah, I done that
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| But I ain’t braggin', though, really, it’s about capital
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| And all this goddamn money gave me an attitude
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| No smiles like I’m mad at you
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| Late night grindin', posted on the BG
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| Hood homies, the tiny loc and supreme team
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| Meek Baby, Set Trip, if it’s J. Stone
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| First to bo, light that kush blunt for X gone
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| This for my nigga Tiny Inhead that’s fresh home
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| And Little Chopper facing life, homie, stay strong
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| Stay slow, baby, one shot and bolt the facts
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| The homies is here and Slauson where we posted at
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| You know that I’m a hustla, so, you know
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| I’ma always stay paid
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| You know that I’m a hoodsta, so, you know
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| I never turn down a fade
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| You know that I’m a hustla hustla hustla
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| You know that I’m a hood, hood, hood
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| You know that I’m a hustla hustla hustla
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| You know that I’m hood, hood, hood, hood |