| Dear Magic, how is livin life up there?
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| Is it the same thing, people smoke weed and drink beer
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| I sware, shit is really sink down here
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| Pardon the wet spot, but that’s a drop from my tear
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| Oh yeah, Two-casin Bob, he’s still out here
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| Plus your little brother’s growin up, mom’s steady holdin up
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| But guess what, Sha-born just got locked up, shit’s rough
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| Plus I started rappin and such, and signed to Blunt
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| Tryin to make it platinum and plus
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| And even tried dust, put in handcuffs
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| 'Member little John I snuffed, nigga startin to act to tough
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| Caught him off guard and got bucked
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| So when he get up there, get his stupid ass touch
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| So one love, nigga, know that I miss you much
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| And when you died they got the best of me
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| I never thought that the streets would get the rest of me
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| But now I’m stuck between the evil and my destiny
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| It’s dedicated to my niggas, that’s rest in peace
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| I’m constantly thinkin bout your presence
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| We used to bustin weapons and cursin out reverend
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| We met around seven, and got married to the game at eleven
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| Rollin dice was heaven, started fuckin grown women
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| Drivin cars is tinted, if it’s beef we all in it
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| Let me stop for a minute, mind zonin and bented
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| Almost crashed the rented, ninety miles a minute
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| Pull over, sweat the linen, started to lose my vision
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| Is it you I’m really missin, I turn my head when no one’s listenin
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| The last words you said «Tell Uni that I’m whistlin»
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| P. S., I’ve been writin you, since you left
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| Never understand why you wasn’t wearin a vest
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| But for you, it’s God bless, take it off your chest
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| I guess it’s all a test, smokin mad weed for the stress
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| Put my A-alike to rest, I’m gonna stay here and live life up to best
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| You got my pictures yet? |
| Of me and Ty-Boogie sippin mad Moet
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| That Carnel shit, if you ain’t got them, I send some more flicks
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| So right me back quick
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| Cuz soon or later I’ll be wit you smokin mad spliffs
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| Plus I got a headache and my hands startin to slip
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| I miss you so much, I can’t deal wit this shit |