| Lord, please continue to guide, direct, and protect my niggas
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| From the world, and from themselves
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| Lord can you please shine that light on your sons
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| They sent you a million prayers, you ain’t answered near one
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| It’s a shame
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| I’m down on both knees, Father talk to 'em please
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| All you put 'em through is pain, but will it ever cease?
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| What a shame
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| Yaowa! |
| What up world? |
| I’m Joell
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| Sixth floor, project door, broke bell
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| Only child, no brother, no sis
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| Moms runnin out the door to go sniff
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| My highwater pants don’t fit
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| Afro growin all wild, no pic man
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| Is what my teacher said for class pics
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| My pops? |
| I don’t know where he at
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| He left one day, he said he’d be back
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| The stove keep me warm in the winter
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| I’m tired of Beefaroni for dinner
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| My grandmoms got a bad liver
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| I’m just watchin her fade away
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| Man, I don’t know what else to say
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| So at the end of every day I pray, I say
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| What up world? |
| I’m the shit
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| I’m headed to Hell in a hand-basket
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| I pop pills, abuse liquor and kill niggas
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| When I die, God ain’t gon' judge, he gon' deal with us
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| That’s why them reckless quotes come with my drama
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| My pops while coke-infested, cum in my momma
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| I know, right?
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| For those nights that I was havin them seizures
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| For those mornings that I was havin trouble breathin
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| C’mon listen; |
| I was only a fo'-pound baby
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| So I grew up into grown and went fo'-pound crazy
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| Daddy was gangsta, mommy was passive
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| Boxin gloves for Christmas, I needed classes
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| My daddy beat our ass, that’s probably why we assassins
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| But he’ll do anythang for me; |
| Joey pray for me
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| What up world? |
| I’m a lost soul
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| Challengin the devil standin at the crossroads
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| I just shot a dirty snake with my .38
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| He shot me too, now I’m waitin at the Pearly Gates
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| I seen the angel Gabriel and I came real
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| A lame tried to kill me, so I aim steel
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| Ask God is that somethin that he can’t feel
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| I had a six-shot popper and I brought it with me
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| I put his thinkin cap somewhere he never thought it would be
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| I didn’t son him, he’s a daughter to me
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| Instead of hangin with thugs he’s slangin drugs
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| Shoulda got a college degree
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| But growin up in the hood’ll leave your mind baffled
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| We put haters in the past like time travel
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| That’s my murder story, I’m past purgatory
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| I need prayer though, Joey put a word in for me |