| Momma’s so proud of you, you did so good on that report card today baby
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| I’mma let you pick out whatever you want
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| Ma, I can get any shoes I want?
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| That’s right, today is your day
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| Momma don’t have much, but I’ll spend it all on you today
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| Okay, I want these. |
| Ah man, I’mma look fresh when I go to school
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| Such a beautiful thing, being embraced by a woman that’s a queen
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| With big dreams for the younger sibling
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| O couldn’t do no wrong
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| According to report cards Obie brought home
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| They say good in spelling
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| Spelling bee’s always excelling
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| Which was so overwhelming that Momma took him shopping
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| Copped him the new Jay’s
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| Swear to God homie this was Obie’s cool days
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| BMX’ing up the block with the tennant living next to him
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| Shooting hopes, who got hops?
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| Worthy, when he pop a jump shot
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| No worries, just a pocket full of sugar or whatnot
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| Hit the candy house on the block
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| It was pickle in them spot
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| Then things turn around when Obie’ll lay down
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| Hear the sounds of fire rounds surrounded em
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| Astounded him, the volume of the blast had me so interested
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| Momma falling with cash, she can’t get a nigga in this bitch
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| They wanna hit the ass, nigga start ditching class
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| Dad ain’t around, he left a nigga
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| Sagging in them Superman drawers that one Saturday
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| Is it my fault, shit got dark?
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| Mom and I fall apart, relationship taunts, bad talk
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| «Can't stand you, looking like ya Daddy with that same walk»
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| Now a niggas out in the streets
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| Two nickle plated thirty-eights on me
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| Can’t stay away from beef
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| Scrapping with them niggas from the other side
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| Sipping Saint Ives rocking old school flannels
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| Old school niggas see that I’m an animal
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| Front me at 16, see how my roll handle
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| Now I’m up the O’s but wait on the affy
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| Cuz here come my muthafuckin baby, cool
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| Had to slow my role
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| Plus my P.O. |
| got a nigga pissing in a bowl
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| Hold my temperment cuz I see such innocence
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| When I’m looking in Kobie’s pupils
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| Despite all the dope I sold I had to change my road
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| I just might be able to grow old
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| Older brother said, «Yo O
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| I’mma quit my job so we can chase our goals
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| I’ll be manager-a-go, you can rap I suppose»
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| That’s what we did, I still flipped a little bit
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| Saved up my chips and put it into music
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| «Well Known Asshole» a underground hit
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| Still scrambling, looking like shit
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| Baby momma think I’m smoking more then a spliff
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| Think a blessing came from the man who invented my gift
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| When Eminem said «let me hear you spit»
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| Wrote my signature, now Shady Obie represents
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| Hit em with the D12 skit
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| Can exhale now I see my Mom’s ain’t pissed
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| She hit em with a smile cuz Obie became focused
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| From independent out the trunk like them dope kids
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| To platinum plaques, world tours, getting noticed
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| An inappropriate soldier became so ferocious
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| In this Hip-Hop culture that I long for
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| The roller coaster O was on so young
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| Took a turn right into his song
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| That’s right, from after school fights
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| To pushing white, to pursuing his career heights
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| One mic’s, all I need involved with beats
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| I’mma be the streets to Jesus, cars on me
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| And that’ll be the day you applaud and see
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| The underdog gets his eventually
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| Gotta end it though
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| I’m all in it, there’s no limits
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| And it’s so splendid
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| Real names, no gimmics
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| No image, just a soldier who spoke what he lived
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| From the ribs with it, the flows vintage
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| Obie gotta do this for real
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| Yeah
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| Obie Trice |