These streets don't give you what you want dirty, they take you
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Doesn't love you like your mother but knows you like your uncle
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To stay or go, you have to answer this
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Neither your lungs will be silent, nor your mercy will remain
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Meet the trade if your peers are taso
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Say goodbye to your absence from night meals
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Magic, events speed up as the magic grows
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Criminals multiply they're your friends man
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Wins coins to fill the cauldron
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Your tawa is an empty promise, keep your head up.
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Does childhood remain when your jargon becomes the street?
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The child is not guilty, but he is jealous of the peace
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Gets angry and shouts to fix my past
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Head is scattered, there is no way, my delusion is the spring of trouble
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Eyes blood words filthy teller of betrayal
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The remedy to get rid of is music, brother!
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Yakuza flow
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killa beez
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My glass of Hennesy
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I'm drunk when we ride on our enemies
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I'm the danger, my jeans are always punk denim
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I used to carry a lighter in my pocket, my fine trust
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I got custody on the street you know Orchi dirty boy
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I have an old baby on my back, even though I'm murder
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Guys, go get the haze from the koal
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Boys haze takes go step fame on the street
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MAHALLEDREAM is sober now I'm after you
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My chain around my neck as time leaks from my old watch
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All my works are in rast
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I'm Spin and the Impala player GHEDDOBLASTER
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The haters are in mourning
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The cake that will be ours
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Damn baby girl im a hustler
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All the neighborhood children are behind us; |
sick
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I'm still on the street if anyone eats the ass
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Shut up at 35, this tape is like West Coast
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This Rap is synchronous in me that in the opposite direction break on
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Mic I got Kingkong that like a ding dong in the earphone
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I'll do my work, beat the beat, don't give a fuck like you
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I'll burn the flame, don't worry, you can't understand this math
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Everyone smiles on my face and does not come to me when I return.
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Back kick when you stop
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sing on microphone
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I'll go my own way with my last breath and stop when I'm alone
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You'll get dizzy, don't drink this shit, lower your head, look at the wave
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Watch your back when we're on the street, punks, come at the bus stop
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Rent yourself while my vocal cord is my wealth
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A little show and a cool pose, but relax yourself.
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They will not know
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The empty glass will not be full
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They'll see that I won't be afraid
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I won't stop when I run
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That I'll win by rapping on the microphone at the last breath
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That I will carve what I have set up in my head with the truth |