| It’s a Hell Up in Harlem, fuckit, another day
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| another dollar, wake up, to the barking from the Rottweilers
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| Pull the collars, make em sit for the Godfather
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| Then I holler, to Justin my son, run the water
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| for the shower, trust fund scholarship sure to give him power
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| Baby momma call, she pick him up, in about an hour
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| Now free to go, free to blow, with the calicos
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| and the navajos, it’s just the way this player knows
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| anything goes, finally caught up with my nigga Sam Sam
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| Picked me up, in the tan Lex Land
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| Wanted breakfast down at Pan Pan’s, what’s your favorite dish?
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| He ordered cheese eggs and grits, I had the swordfish
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| What is this? |
| Three niggaz dressed in black
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| Roleys on they wrist, feathers in they hat
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| One tapped me on my back, then pointed at my stack
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| Put my finger on the trigger
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| then I asked him, «Whatchu want nigga?»
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| Chorus: Puff Daddy
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| Whatchu gonna do when it’s your turn to go Whatchu gonna do when you can’t take no mo'
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| You gonna cry like a bitch or take it nice and slow
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| Whatchu gonna do when it’s your turn to go Verse Two: Puff Daddy
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| I pray to God that I’m dreamin, I know my family
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| wouldn’t take it, when the doctor said, «He ain’t make it»
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| Mom Dukes cryin, baby mom full of grief
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| How she gonna tell her son his daddy is deceased?
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| Now she got beef with them bitches up the street
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| All because I used to creep, with her girlfriend Sharese
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| She knows, I keep the hoes, from nation, to nation
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| On every radio station, Goodfellas in rotation, uhh
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| That’s why niggaz wanna twist my shit, flip my wig
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| Attempt to murder me like Tommy Gills
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| Before they draw, niggaz threw me to the floor
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| Drill holes in my pocket, Sam launch the rocket
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| They wanna rip my arms out the socket, fuckin heathens
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| Love to see a nigga stop breathin
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| I heard a voice sing out, «Ain't you Sean Puffy Combs?
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| Here’s your eulogy, meet you at the Crossroads»
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| G’night Bone
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| Verse Three: Puff Daddy
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| Nothing but clouds and white suits fill my vision
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| Watching my life go down, like Christian
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| Listen hear them bullets rang, shotguns and Mac millis
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| spraying like a hurricane in this war called the terror game
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| And deuce deuces can’t stand the pain
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| Little guns ain’t got no business in this blizzard
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| they just kibitz, here’s five shots to visit, blaka
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| Blowin bullet holes sizes of door knockers
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| Three headed for my chest straight, the other two
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| came a little late, and just barely missed my face
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| I’m tryin to find a steady place between two cars
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| One of us gon’either wind up dead, or behind bars
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| Shit, I’m just tryin to live, so I can raise my kid
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| and own the world, bone all the girlie girls
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| That’s when I finally figured out
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| That’s that nigga David Arthur, Sharese baby father
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| And I didn’t even bother to ask no further questions
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| No more confessions only suggestions
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| I think Sam set me up, cause them bullets squeezed up from the rear, and Sam was the only nigga there
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| Then they all peeled out in the rental, aluminum
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| Sam in the passenger seat, so I’m assumin them
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| niggaz didn’t even get to peep
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| Lil’Kim and them, in the backseat, with the heat
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| Clips they feelin em, to the top, shit ain’t sweet
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| Once the light turns red, nuff said, that’s dead
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| They fled, and they waved, hot lead
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| If I ain’t duck, I’d be on my deathbed
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| Sucker move, for that they don’t get no props
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| Lil’Kim and them, mad they ain’t bust no shots
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| We in the block, no Land posters just old posters
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| of gangsta niggaz I see ghosts of gangsta figures
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| I’m tryin to hold my own when they snatched me out the car
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| Took me in the saloon and said, «Puffy, there you are»
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| Them same cats we chased two blocks had new spots
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| washin dishes, I guess for goin out like bitches
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| I smacked em, gave a little speech, to mirth
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| Happiness, cause me and all my peeps got hurt
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| That night, I said a little prayer, me and Justin
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| That’s when I heard the bustin, yeah |