| Hey yo
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| When you look at me and my brothers what’s your first impression
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| Does the sight of us leave you guessin or do you understand the stressin
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| The aggression, the look of no hope on me and my niggas faces
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| Like the lord overlooked us when he handed down his graces
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| You see embraces, fall short on the numb tips of street entrepeneur fingers
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| Still stuck in the walls of the project halls where the coke smell still lingers
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| External blingers is all we can be cause on the inside we been given nothin to
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| shine on
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| And a record deal’s harder to get than coke, so my niggas get they grind on
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| Cause the TV tells us, aim high nigga, make all goals lateral
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| But see that takes paper that we don’t have so, niggas put they souls up as
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| collateral
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| Now, some niggas reclaim 'em, some blame 'em, make an excuse to sell 'em
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| But when a nigga goes from not doin to doin, what can you tell him?
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| Not to be a nigga? |
| Shit I gots to be a nigga, that’s how I pay the bills
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| And I’mma do that whether I got to sling this coke or exploit these rhyme skills
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| See America makes you an opportunist, and at the same time they
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| institutionalize you
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| So the fact that niggas get, big record deals
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| Big money and go to jail shouldn’t surprise you
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| That’s what lies do, you see most of these guys
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| Do have raw talent just an infantile education
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| So the business feed you all the weed and ecstasy
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| And a little bit of paper to provide some pacification
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| From all the bullshit frustration they serve you
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| Meanwhile they corrupt your perception of what the real is
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| See they takin all our businessmen, and givin 'em the mindsets of drug dealers
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| Took all our messengers, made 'em rappers
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| Just flappin they jaws afraid to admit their treason
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| Took all our soldiers for the cause, made 'em killers for no reason
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| And bein fucked up, well that’s in this season
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| So, if you’re negative you’re positive, and if you’re positive you’re called a
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| hater
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| But I maintain control of my soul cause I know it gets greater later
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| And I told y’all the last show shit, a nigga no hater, I just know what the
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| truth is
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| Been intertwined in this puddin for 'bout a year now so I know where the proof
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| is
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| See, it lines these midtown Manhattan skyscrapers
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| Where former hustlers like myself sign papers
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| And pull off fucked capers like, 16 infamous stars of the time
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| They got us choppin and, baggin and
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| Servin that shit to niggas 16 bars at a time now
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| The crime is undetectable by the feds
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| Cause in heads of our kids is where the track is
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| And music is potent it’s straight to the soul
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| So it’s much more addictive than crack is
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| Now, the high is just an illusion all lies and confusion
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| But to feel that rush just once, my young bucks’ll go through it
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| So in essence, they still floodin the streets with the thugs, drugs and the
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| killing
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| They just usin these record labels to do it
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| Takin our hearts off demos, puttin us in limos
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| Tryin to fuck up divine direction
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| But, young black men have been trained to chase money
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| And pussy, so we fall victim to our own erection
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| And begin to convince ourselves we’re on our way somewhere where we’re not goin
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| But ignorance is bliss and niggas love this so, niggas take pride in not knowin
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| We not growin, nigga I give a fuck how slick you flowin
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| If you ain’t showin nuttin to these kids or addin nuttin positive to the earth
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| Black Ice been destined to touch the world ever since I was born
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| To be real, fuck a record deal, God gives me what I’m worth
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| «Soul Survivor» nigga |