| Right, uh, same shit every day, homie
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| Lord, please forgive me for all my sins
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| Yeah, nigga wake up to the same shit every day, homie
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| Walk through the valley of the shadow of death, no rules, right
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| Washing my sins off in hell’s water
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| Feel like the Bible told me lies as I pray to 'em
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| Kneel down, put my faith in 'em, will you answer me?
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| But if God won’t help me, this gun will
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| I swear I’m gon' find my way
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| Uh, four corners
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| Cat and mouse chase, got cheese to catch
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| High on on some drug, I’m Space Cadet
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| Dreaming I don’t live up on the block no more
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| Trapping, trying to make it out this obstacle
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| Life on the edge, hell a block away
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| Pretty Snow White turned eight today
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| Selling that base, no Dr. Dre
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| Uh, guess who in the building?
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| Bucket hat with a strap like a pilgrim
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| Uh, kneeling down with some questions to address like
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| Why the ones who commit the worst sins live the best?
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| The Ten Commandments, I can mark five checks
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| But I sense flaws, the Bible preaching blind threats
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| Streets held me down, got faith in a Pyrex
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| Faith in a four-five, I call it the clarinet
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| Sewer full of drugs when the toilet digests
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| From the cop raid, all can relate from the streets
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| To the wall from niggas to compadres
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| When the sun go down, I’m predicting a heatwave
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| Forecast your whole body, heat on, room full of homi’s
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| I just pray that the Lord got me
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| But if God don’t help me, this gun will
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| I swear I’m gon' find my way
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| Mic check, mic check, mic check
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| La-la, la-la, low-low, la-la, la-la, low
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| La-la, la-la, low-low, la-la, la-la, low
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| But if God won’t help me, this gun will
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| I swear I’m gon' find my way
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| Aim that, shoot that, pledge allegiance
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| Kill mine, kill yours, make it even
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| Soul need saving, Mr. Preacher
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| I know I only come around when it’s Easter
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| Funerals, Thanksgiving, Christmas time
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| When I’m in jail or when my card declined
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| Uh, will you answer me?
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| Take me out of hell and make plans for me?
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| Misery loves company, ain’t a surprise
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| It was just me and my niggas, we was trying to survive
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| But we would never make it out alive
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| Shit, we living to die—oxymoron
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| Hope to get to heaven 'til that day arrive
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| Running through the alley, hope the bullet don’t collide
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| Car window shattered, glass on my right side
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| Dogs bark in the backyard, rootin' for me
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| Out of shape belly, courtesy of 40
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| Spoiled only child, baby boy Jody
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| Same jacket on from back in the day
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| Praying that the Lord come and take me away
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| But if God won’t help me, this gun will
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| I swear I’m gon' find my way
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| Mic check, mic check, mic check
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| La-la, la-la, low-low, la-la, la-la, low
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| La-la, la-la, low-low, la-la, la-la, low (Yeah, yeah, nigga, la)
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| But if God won’t help me, this gun will
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| I swear I’m gon' find my way
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| Yeah, ScHoolboy, what up, nigga? |
| Let’s take these niggas down
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| Ayo, tuna fish sandwiches bread, dry and stinking
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| Black Lincoln, burgundy Mac, I clap a king-pin
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| Caught me in the airport dusted that I was thinking
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| On how to stay rich and get bills with my acquaintances
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| Yeah, money is the issue, I diss you
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| It’s no problem at all, yo, the bunch on the pistol
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| 'Cause I’m a suitcase king
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| Cooling at the gambling spot with a screwed face grin
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| New Beige Bent, we stay winning, play it again, yo
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| Put the bone in your jaw, now say it again
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| Round nightfall under the tents, coming to rinse
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| Get out the way or let the shotty dispense
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| Revenge killers who make the events iller
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| This is more realer, snatch you right up out of the Benz
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| The Wu wheelers who huddle up, coupes knows the truth
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| You know the whoopty-whoop, solo or group, I kill niggas |