| Free your mind, and remember
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| Winners are not people who never fail
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| But people who never quit
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| All I ever wanted was to sell
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| Records to the people make a lot of mil', yessir
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| Rap to me, it was the holy grail
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| I’m gonna go and do it, I’m never gonna fail
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| Yeah, but first I gotta make it out of Hell
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| Wake up and I see crime
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| All of us we on it’s eat time
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| My homies love me yelling «Peace N9ne»
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| At the same time, throwing B signs
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| Throwing em back and repping the street, I’m
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| Doing music and I’m writing beast rhymes
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| But my V-Slimes, had no weak minds
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| Got with the music, started a group and we shine
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| Music gave us hella hope
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| Made it up out of the bangin' and sellin' dope
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| We were stronger than a bottle of Yoke
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| Till one of our members found a kid to grope
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| Then your honor gave the peddy the rope
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| Losing a man, the band began to slope
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| Never did think a plan was damned to croak
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| So doing it solo-dolo stands the G.O.A.T
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| Started making hella LP’s
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| 2000, all the way to five, felt free
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| Because of the hand the label dealt me
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| But in ‘06 Fontana helped us melt cheese
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| Number one independent gonna be spending a ton of funds, in a minute
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| That’s when the government want the sums, then I send it
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| In a couple of months I’m done and replenished
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| Everywhere I go, I’m selling out the show
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| Around the world I kill em and everybody know
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| Whenever we hit the studio
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| And Tecca Nina drop, hot
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| Even though I will go toe to toe
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| If somebody bang on me, but I’m rolling in the dough
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| And I’m really respected and protected
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| Chances of me getting shot, not
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| Everyone loving the Tech
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| Publishin', I get a check
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| Loving the cities that with me, the people that call me the best
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| I don’t have any regret, but it’s a bit of neglect
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| Missing my babies I love em and none of 'em leaving me yet
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| Feeling good like a villain should
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| In a mansion, but I’m still in hoods
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| Not like Trayvon, J’s on
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| Khaki shorts with a red tee like I will and could
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| I can conceal it my permits say
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| If evil happens to swerve this way
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| Hope nobody deserves quick spray
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| I feel an angelic surge this day
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| They feeling my songs
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| Been doing it long
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| They want me to sell 'em my CD right outta my home
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| Cos I’m in the zone
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| I’m putting em on in front of the store when a couple of police won’t leave me
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| alone
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| Why they tripping?
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| I fit the description
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| It’s two of them rushing me I’m on a solo mission
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| To get people to listen, but they pushing and kicking me
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| I’m on the ground when they telling me, «Cause of a gun suspicion»
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| It was in my pocket, ain’t trying pop it
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| When they scared of a brother with a gun no one can stop it
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| Then one of em lost it, and then I was shot quick
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| Officers took me to heaven, I’m dead and with multiple rockets
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| Didn’t matter I was good and living inside a mansion next to ball players
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| 'Cause of the move he made was drastic now I lay in a casket carried by my
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| pallbearers
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| Fears what I see, making em kill a G
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| Rotten apple in the batch; |
| don’t tell the rest to flee
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| This happened in Baton, R-O-U-G-E, even I fit the description
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| What if it was me?
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| What if it was me
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| What if I never got the one chance to be
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| Everything and everywhere I go, I wouldn’t see
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| If by your hand you took that from me
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| But what if it were me?
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| Laying right there
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| I’ll never get up again, it’s so unfair
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| My babies cry out
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| You never cared
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| Things that we do make each other so scared
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| So what if it was you there?
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| (Should I just) Take your life
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| (Should I bust) Make your wife widowed, withered, hugging the pillow
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| The scent of you still on her
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| Spirit she feels on her
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| The whole world weeps
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| Blood we all spill on her
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| And I know, it’s ill will; |
| the pill’s hard to swallow
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| How should I feel when I’m being followed (followed)
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| By the words that you say to me? |
| (Crazy)
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| And you saved my life, take my life
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| I gotta fight, all of the night with cops, crips, bloods with sore fists
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| I gotta fight, all of the night with cops, crips, bloods with sore fists
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| I gotta fight, all of the night with cops, crips, bloods with sore fists
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| I gotta fight, all of the night with cops, crips, bloods with sore fists and
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| them Nazis |