| As a younger age, never really gave a shit
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| Just my grandma arms, kept me out of harm
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| Nigga went to class, my football pads
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| Kept the burner stashed, they ain’t gon' catch my ass
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| In the Pontiac with the bad speakers
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| Back then? | 
| Shit, I was into sneakers
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| And fitted caps, side kicks
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| My same bitch, she a down bitch
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| Had a little daughter, glad it ain’t a boy
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| Knew she’d bring me joy, so I named her Joy
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| Kiss her on her head, then I kiss her lips
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| Then I kiss her cheek, lay her down to sleep
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| Trials and tribulations helped me through my situations
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| Little observations stopped the cops from confrontations
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| And the ghetto bird, and a nigga snitched
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| But I’m still dipping, shit, I ain’t tripping
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| I’m good, I’m good, I’m good, I’m good, I’m good…
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| I’m good, I’m good, I’m good, I’m good, I’m good…
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| I’m good, I’m good, I’m good, I’m good, I’m good…
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| I’m good, I’m good, I’m good, I’m good, I’m good…
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| (BJ the Chicago Kid)
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| (I know I’m not perfect
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| But I’ll still make a decision that make my life still worth it, yea-ea-eahhh
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| And sometimes it may hurt
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| But I know what you see ain’t what it’s gon' be, cause I know my worth,
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| yeeeaaahhhh…)
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| Got a lil' older, nigga seen a lot of shit
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| Been out in Boston, even got to see the Knicks
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| I’ve been to Dallas, slap a five with the bench
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| Back to the hood where niggas betting on the six
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| But shit is crazy
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| Lil' Teisha and Tamika bout to kill they babies
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| Pregnant at the same time, and they think that shit is cute
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| Always running from the truth, bigger dream they must pursue
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| And they babies wasn’t in it
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| Just going bout they business in the club
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| She off of Guinness, adioses with the lemon
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| V.I.P. | 
| she dreams of, in the club looking for mean buzz
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| In a dress looking distinctive
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| Ass hanging, got that ass hanging with the biggest baller in the club
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| Ain’t got a dub, but she want some love
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| Wasn’t polite, but she feel it’s right (feel it’s right)
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| Lay it down, then he dimmed the lights, played it right for the night
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| I’m good, I’m good, I’m good, I’m good, I’m good…
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| I’m good, I’m good, I’m good, I’m good, I’m good…
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| I’m good, I’m good, I’m good, I’m good, I’m good…
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| I’m good, I’m good, I’m good, I’m good, I’m good…
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| (BJ the Chicago Kid)
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| (I know I’m not perfect
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| But I’ll still make a decision that make my life still worth it, yea-ea-eahhh
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| And sometimes it may hurt
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| But I know what you see ain’t what it’s gon' be, cause I know my worth,
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| yeeeaaahhhh…)
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| Uh, ignorance is bliss, but to know is pain
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| No matter what we reap, we still sow the same
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| The concept of change is second-rate to change
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| Either way around, the cycle still remains
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| Out my project window, observing the wannabes blowing endo
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| Shooting dice on the corner, big homie roll up with his kinfolk
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| Unfold a stack on 'em like, what they hitting for?
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| Slamming the doors on his Benzo
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| He left the engine running, bumping something sounding like
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| Late eighties R&B, trunk full of China white
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| Type of nigga ladies like, known dope dealer
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| Money, cash, hoes getter, slash stone cold killer
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| He can’t sleep at night, his victim’s eyes piercing through his soul
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| He wake up every time his eyes close
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| That’s who them young boys aspire to see
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| Underneath the palm trees, that’s who they dying to be
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| But I’m good
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| I’m good, I’m good, I’m good, I’m good, I’m good…
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| I’m good, I’m good, I’m good, I’m good, I’m good…
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| I’m good, I’m good, I’m good, I’m good, I’m good…
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| I’m good, I’m good, I’m good, I’m good, I’m good…
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| (BJ the Chicago Kid)
 | 
| (I know I’m not perfect
 | 
| But I’ll still make a decision that make my life still worth it, yea-ea-eahhh
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| And sometimes it may hurt
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| But I know what you see ain’t what it’s gon' be, cause I know my worth,
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| yeeeaaahhhh…) |