| Oooh, ahhh
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| Oooh, ahhh
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| They ask you what’s the cause and effect
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| Of doobies packed in they fat
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| Now you calling collect, they booby trapping the trap
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| The police pulling a pulley, you’ll fall for it you silly
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| Putty you outta shape, fuck running, you’ll catch a case
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| I can’t relate to half of my relatives
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| My genetics is felony, buying low and reselling it
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| They told me tell a story, I’m like «Why not mine?»
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| Shit everybody taking pictures, I’m like «Why not Vine?»
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| And growin' from the ground up, it look like I’m a vine
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| It’s rarity in my realness, yeah I’m a fine, diamond in the rough type
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| Rough type, roughhouse in a roadhouse like rugby
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| Lovely, when you hit a lick little kick like Chun-Li
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| Funny, kids that I hoop with all in county
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| Counting, black bodies hunt 'em down look like bounties
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| Bound to, be on the block a little while longer
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| They your homies, this what home is
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| What don’t kill ya make ya stronger
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| Call Obama, Jesus, Yeezus, he can save Chicago
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| From the demons and the deacons when it’s the end
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| Yeah, dodged precincts since pre-teens
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| Let’s pretend we privileged not deceased, addicted
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| It look like funeral home, church, church, liquor store
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| Corner store, dread-head, deadly, ditto
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| 10−4, ten foes from Cicero to Central
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| Was told, «Let it go,"didn't know who to hit though
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| Now that’s church, barber shop, bottle I got
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| From the liquor store on Cicero, I ain’t 21, but he didn’t know
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| Bad habits of wrong places at wrong times
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| A stray bullet’ll take your first-born like the Tenth Plague
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| I’m the new Pharoah, my phone line
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| Forever open for prayer, the fallen soldiers ain’t fell
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| They in my pen, and I do thank God
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| They say preach like Cooley High
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| From beginning to end, that’s Alpha and Omega
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| My city the same ghost that made Lupe cry
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| Soon’s you loosen up your grip you lost, then lose your life
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| I loosen a dread from every time I gotta wash the cigarette smoke
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| From outta my head, like how I’m not dead
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| Going on 20 soon, they say I changed, that’s a fitting room
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| I’m still the same kid that didn’t speak when we were in the school
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| I just got a mic now, I turned to a real nigga
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| I just knocked the white gal, and fuck who you think I sound
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| Like, I’m a legend in the making like the director’s cut
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| Of I Am Legend and I’m fed up with the fuck comparison
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| These niggas don’t got the truth that y’all want, do they?
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| Think I’m lyin'? |
| Then plan a trip to Chicago today
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| I was 15, they was fucking with me
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| There’s no logic in love, but there’s no love in the streets
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| It look like funeral home, church, church, liquor store
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| Corner store, dread-head, deadly, ditto
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| Sillou… -ette! |
| Chalk outline, sketch!
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| It’s not safe outside when they want your neck
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| Now that’s church, barber shop, bottle I got
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| From the liquor store on Cicero, I ain’t 21, but he didn’t know
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| They sold, they sold
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| They sold prison the way they pipeline, systematically lifeline
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| Erase all niggas, they so bulletproof from the law
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| Law abiding citizen shot, Willie Lynch do crack now
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| Made the new letters shiny, now we pray King Kunta
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| I hope the grave don’t find me, I do my E&J kindly
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| I do my time when it’s timely
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| Sometimes the bible tastes like marmalade
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| My momma still sipping
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| Politician owe Donald Duck a quacking new kitchen
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| They kept the melting pot inside the slave plot, watch
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| They gentrified your neighborhood no needs for cops, watch
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| Look at the yoga pants, coffee shops and yogurt stands
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| Consumerism, holy land
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| And on the other hand my momma land
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| It look like funeral home, church, church, liquor store
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| Corner store, dread-head, deadly-…
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| Man, give them people hell bro… on life, let 'em know how you feelin', yo,
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| let 'em know what’s going on, bro
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| Free us, every chance you get, free my nigga Marl
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| Free Jimmy… Fresh, yo, Frillz, yo
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| Let 'em know yo, keep us alive out there in them verses yo
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| On a real bro… aayt love bro, take care bro
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| Tell my brother, tell Fresh I said I love him
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| Tell him when you see Squeaky, tell him I love him
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| Tell your bro n’em I said wassup, I salute you bro
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| You sent old girl them pictures right? |
| Aayt, flat bro, I love you bro,
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| I’ma talk to you in a minute bro…
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| The caller has hung up |