| Yeah, I met this girl when I was eight years old
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| What I loved most: she had so much soul
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| When the 10 and 101 meet, the sight was so breathtaking
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| Murals the size of buildings, LA River
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| When you black among eses, gangbanging ain’t an option
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| But that Krylon aroma made a brother feel alive
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| And it feel like the Creator made boom-bap just for me only
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| Radio made the night not so lonely
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| That’s why I wanna fight when I hear them thug phonies and gangstas
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| Acting like crack was our savior
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| And at times I can’t stand you, but stand I must
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| Love is patient and long-suffering, it’s all in your head
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| And at times hip-hop makes me very upset
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| But I ain’t gave up on it yet
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| And at times America makes me very upset
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| But I ain’t gave up on it yet
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| And low-key, my own people make me very upset
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| But still ain’t gave up on them yet
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| And at times, my own city make me very upset
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| But still ain’t gave up on it yet
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| That family tree’s a groundhog day of ignorance
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| Juke joints, speakeasys, been on that ratchetness
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| Granddad ran the numbers, got mama out the hood
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| DC was so crazy in the 30's, let me tell ya
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| Uncle Timmy and Alan and Hubbard, they all suffer from
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| Them typical pitfalls, front like ya’ll ain’t feeling me
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| Ya’ll know a line of Appalacia Mountain bootleggers
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| This transcends race; |
| ya’ll got moonshine coursing through your veins
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| Don’t cha? |
| Them is crimes of survival
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| Tax evasion, white collar, pre-Great Depression
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| They say New York trying to escape the same thing
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| It’s life but be patient, boy, it’s all in your head
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| Little brother, I feel you, Vato drive slow
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| Vans with no plates, he’s second generation
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| His tio from Sina Loa smuggling people biz
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| Collotes in training, bald heads and tattoos
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| Slanging social security numbers, I’m from the 626
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| I know it well, down that 1−10
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| Bye abuelita, green card grandpa still works hard
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| Only one with good sense, dime a donde vas?
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| Vaya con Dios mijos tres puntos, calmate homie
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| Corrale, corrale! |
| I see it in his ojos
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| You feel trapped, don’t you? |
| You feel like «Why me?»
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| But it’s all in your head |