| The first time I got arrested
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| I was higher than the gas price
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| 5−0 rolled with some flashlights, that’s life
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| I was in cuffs laughing, laughing
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| Like, «Whatever homie, you know bullshit happens»
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| And I swore, man, that would be the last time
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| Crime can’t become a pastime of mine, nah
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| But a month later cops busted through the locked door
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| And found a QP up in the sock drawer
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| And now I’m four charges deep, can’t sleep
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| And you know plus, I ain’t got laid in 3 weeks
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| Straight depressed, no checks
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| Mic cable round my neck, like I’ll chill with the devil
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| What the heck, no sweat
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| I’m going mental and I’m chattering my dentals
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| 'Cause these teachers used to tell me I had so much potential
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| But now
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| Shut down
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| Smoker, alcoholic
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| Life’s rotten, got me plottin' on droppin' up out of college
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| Deuce court dates in late May
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| Just great
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| Can’t wait to get substantially financially raped
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| Man, I used to be invincible
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| Like, «fuck you» to the principle
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| But now I’m not sensible
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| God damn!
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| God damn
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| Right when they cuff my hands
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| God damn
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| When I testify or take the stand
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| God damn
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| I seriously can’t afford this, man
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| God damn
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| It’s got me scheming on a master plan
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| So, yo, I rolled into court (When?)
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| Rooster o’clock (oh) in two different socks
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| Mad bitches with speeding tickets was kicking it
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| The courtroom was crickets
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| My heart’s pounding like the bass in your Civic
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| And I’m tripping like, «please have mercy on my soul
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| I mean I only had a weed-filled bowl
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| Oh no!»
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| Misdemeanors got my mom reaching for Kleenex
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| And I don’t want my dad to know
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| So yo, it’s like
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| God damn as they call me to the stand
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| And I entered the chamber like the Wu-Tang Clan
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| I plead my case but the judge barely budge
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| I’ve been trudged through the mud since I met my boy Drugs
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| I realize I’ve gotta Nip/Tuck my ways
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| I ain’t Dave Chapelle
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| Rick James, rich bitch, hey
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| I gotta rearrange priorities
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| And even more importantly and horribly
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| Ease off the Heinekens and forestry
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| 'Cause back when I had lights up on my sneakers
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| I was eager to be a leader with my voice up on the speakers
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| But now I’m losing confidence
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| A life no longer positive
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| I mean I wasn’t conscious of the consequence
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| Bumming, I was like off the wall like paint chips
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| Not thinking, drinking, banging, endangering, and feeling anguish
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| Slipping as a convict
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| Tripping taking bong rips
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| And doing all the wrong shit, God damn!
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| God damn
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| Right when they cuffed my hands
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| God damn
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| When I testified or took the stand
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| God damn
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| I seriously couldn’t afford this man
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| God damn
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| It had me scheming on a master plan
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| So yo it’s been two years now
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| I ain’t completely stop
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| Weed-stinking, beer-drinking
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| I don’t fuck with the cops, nah
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| I mellowed out
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| I’m more intelligent now
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| As apposed to the old Spose up in the felony crowd
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| It’s like, fuck that
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| I cut back a lot, for sure
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| I’m hanging in there like nuts sacks in boxer shorts
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| I’m not going to court
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| I’m still repping F-4s
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| Still Spizzy Spizzy Spose
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| Baby, catch me on tour
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| God damn |