| On the stretcher, under pressure
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| The sensation of the slugs in my body is still fresh in me
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| Mama is stressin' me
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| In the ambulance readin' me Genesis 1 or 7, I only remembered half of that
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| As I blacked out, passed out
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| Woke up in general with nurses pullin' my oxygen mask out
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| I’m ready to smash out, but I can’t walk, can’t talk
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| Morphine drip, draining my train of thought, distraught
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| Weed and Patron to make you get loose
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| Ran my mouth to the wrong niggas and they let loose
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| Let they Tec shoot, Smith and Wess' hit the set, hit with death
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| Hit my chest, clipped my breath, then they jet, damn
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| And just like menace, my niggas visit, revenge intended
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| To go to who gave it, and give it
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| Give ‘em the business, wanna see they brains hang
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| Never thought I meant it, that I’d be going through the same thing
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| All I wanna do is feel better
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| But the red, white, and blue they got it set up
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| So the doctors and the nurses ain’t there for us
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| Unless they working with the county welfare for us
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| Just basketball, alcohol, and jail for us
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| And a funky ass mr. |
| access healthcare for us
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| In the hood we don’t pay no attention
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| Cause it’s just another way for you to bury us, uh come on
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| Yeah, it’s time to check out, get out, before I leave
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| Signed paperwork, paying the cash out
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| Prescribing me painkillers and fluids to clean my flesh out
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| They told me copay with my provider is the best route
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| What the fuck is «copay with my provider» and shit?
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| Fuck you mean if I don’t pay, you ain’t supplyin' me shit?
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| What the fuck is health coverage? |
| I don’t go to work
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| «Bitch, I’m in these streets» I’m yellin' up at the clerk, it’s nothin'
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| Six G’s I pulled outta my pocket
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| And from a ten-grand hospital bill, they docked it
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| No diploma, no employment, no insurance, no benefits
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| No medicine, no better than when they let me in
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| I turn to mama, but mama ain’t got a job
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| She’s smokin' her damn self, that’s why I’m up in the mob
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| My niggas be stackin' money, but niggas be actin' funny
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| When I call to see what’s up on the hundred for my recovery
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| All I wanna do is feel better
|
| But the red, white, and blue they got it set up
|
| So the doctors and the nurses ain’t there for us
|
| Unless they working with the county welfare for us
|
| Just basketball, alcohol, and jail for us
|
| And a funky ass mr. |
| access healthcare for us
|
| In the hood we don’t pay no attention
|
| Cause it’s just another way for you to bury us, uh come on
|
| (Phone ringing)
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| (Yeah) Hello?
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| (Yeah) Yeah, I’m a boss in the game
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| (Hmm) Tryin' to get my insurance on
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| (Get your insurance on?) Get my insurance on
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| (Phone hangs up)
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| Hello? |
| Man, this motherfucker hung up the phone
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| And I ain’t feelin' right
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| No prescription, no medication, so I ain’t healin' right
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| When I walk, I limp and my shoulders is still stiff at night
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| Tried to get a job, they tellin' me ninety days
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| I be blazed to evade the pain, mental and physical
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| Takin' hella aspirin, shakin' hella bad
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| When I asked the people up in Walmart about it
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| Made me lift my shirt and show ‘em the damage, I can’t ignore it
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| They squirm like mama did, and tell me see a doctor for it
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| But I can’t afford it
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| It cost money and I got it, but I can’t report it
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| And I got to pay the ambulance, they mailed a notice
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| Another thug life side effect, I failed to notice
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| This health insurance is some cold shit |