| I got that work, fuck Labor Day, just bought a gun
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| Fuck punching in, throwing rocks, no hopscotch
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| Bet my 9 milli hit the right spot
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| Bang… Last night it was a dream
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| This morning a fantasy back
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| When the only fan I had was a fiend
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| Meet me by the Acura cause the cops like
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| To get help from the store camera, they always in my cornea
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| But it’s cool I’ve been catching on to they formula
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| See I’m a real loc, my street sign I’ll kill fo'
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| Then rewind my Indo, then unroll my rillo
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| The bad guy never once been a hoes hero
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| He get zero, I said nada
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| Bitch pass the cama (Uh, yeah)
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| How’d it feel to be a real nigga?
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| I’m a product of a real nigga
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| La-la-la familia, real nigga
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| Get confronted by a real nigga
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| Fuck with one of my real niggas
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| It’s on like night fall, summertime gotta ball
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| How’d it feel to be a real nigga?
|
| It’s on like night fall, summertime gotta ball
|
| How’d it feel to be a real nigga
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| My whole life I’ve been a real nigga
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| La-la familia, real nigga
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| Get confronted by a real nigga
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| Fuck with one of my, real niggas
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| It’s on like night fall, summertime gotta ball
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| How’d it feel to be a real nigga?
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| I done jumped off my ass, hit the lick and barely pass
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| But I quickly got to to ballin
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| 2012 ain’t really happen, so I guess it’s back to trapping
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| Eyes open night to morning
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| Had roaches in my cereal, my uncle stole my stereo
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| My grandma can’t control him
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| But… uh, uh
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| Every last one of us had a pistol in the room, nigga
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| But… uh, uh
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| Click-clack, pow-pow-pow, boom, nigga
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| But… uh, uh
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| Meet Glock clock familia
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| Find a nigga realer than me, my socks stink
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| Eat so much pussy that my mustache pink
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| Strapping, my pants seam, no need for a belt
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| Gangsta lean help, hoodie on backwards with the eyes cut out
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| My hate felt, my.45 elder, poetry’s deep
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| I never fail ya, Schoolboy bust flame
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| Orange-yellow, higher than Margiela’s
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| Since a young nigga I admired the crack sellers, seen my uncle steal
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| From his mother, now that’s the money that I’m talking 'bout
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| Think about it, the smoker ain’t got shit and everyday he still get a hit
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| Whether jacking radio’s or sucking dick
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| Sell his kids and chop his wrists and sealing his lips
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| Cause he don’t want the feds arresting his fix, didn’t take much
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| To get me convinced, coincidence that I ain’t fucking with work
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| Now let’s re-rewind it, answer my church
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| Times getting harder than my dick on a growth spurt
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| Around the same time all you niggas was on purp
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| My sober ass was snatching her purse, make the ice cream truck freeze
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| Give me the keys, extra Frito’s, chili and cheese
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| Threw some Baby Lucas in his eyes before I leave
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| The cops’ll never get the leak, grandma taught me well
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| And my uncle gun was the accessory, 211 sipping plus a robbery
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| This little Piggy went to market, this little Piggy carry chrome
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| Grandma said she loved me, I told her I loved her more
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| She always got me things that we couldn’t afford
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| The new J’s and Tommy Hill in my drawers
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| Sega Genesis, Nintendo 64, Golden Eye was away at war
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| We wasn’t thinking of getting money then
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| Nor did I wonder why my uncle done sold his Benz
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| Cause he been tripping now, he sweats a lot and slimming down
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| I also notice moms be locking doors when he around
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| But anyways, he wife done left him and now he living with us
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| My bike is missing, grandma light a hotter chick every month
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| My uncle’s nuts, he used to give me Whisky to piss in cups
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| Knocking on the door telling me to hurry up, he in a rush
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| I gave it to him then got my ass whipped for doing it
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| Moms used to tell me like «nigga, know who you dealing with»
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| Them was the good days 'til I was raised the older ways
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| Rat-Tone my niggas' brother showed me my first K
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| I was amazed, me and Floyd was in the back, he called us over like «Hey»
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| YAWK, YAWK, YAWK, YAWK! |
| We like «Damn, nigga»
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| Then again, YAWK, YAWK! |
| We like «Damn, nigga»
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| Hearing him say cause turned us to a fan, nigga
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| Later on he got locked so know we’re taking his fades
|
| Continue the chapter from his life, we flipping that page
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| Gangbanging was a ritual and grandma would help
|
| She should’ve never left her gun on the shelf
|
| This little Piggy went to market, this little Piggy carry chrome |