| Yeah
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| Know what I’m sayin', man? |
| Fuck the temporary, nigga
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| Know what I’m sayin, nigga, you can tell them I said it
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| You know I don’t give a fuck
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| It’s pleasure and pain
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| What’s first, is it sunshine or rain?
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| Seen fiends by the side of the train
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| Is it my own reality? |
| Is it a known fatality?
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| My niggas ride 'til the moon crack, every rap is a artifact
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| Prob’ly 'cause I’m lonely
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| Lost all my homies, and all of these bitches is phony
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| So don’t phone me
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| I’m countin' cash like Michael Corleone
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| Tha God’ll live through every poem
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| I keep a match lit, full blunt, for my niggas in the swamp
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| My niggas that got smoked, my niggas that got caught
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| I’ll crack the combination code on the lock
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| Break you out like Chapo, we sunk into the darkness like a pothole
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| Comin' out the fire like Dan'
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| I learned from convicts reading Qurans
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| I seen signs that I was God, the game will always be my bride
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| Fuck around, kill you for your pride
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| I gotta lay low, shooters on deck when I say so
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| From the cradle, we spray shit like MAACO
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| On blocks, lay low
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| Cops finna come, I gotta skate, yo
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| Too much weed, I need a break, bro
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| I gotta chill
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| Or be locked up, or killed
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| My people tellin' me to destroy and rebuild
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| But it seems hard to be still
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| 'Cause niggas steady clappin' steel
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| It’s me against the world
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| I’m fuckin' when it’s me against your girl
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| We twisted and the sentences swirl
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| My nigga committed suicide
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| My pen, I gotta utilize
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| Been writin' raps since Jesus was crucified
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| You decide — destiny with death is your fate
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| And when you wakin' up, it’s too late at your wake
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| I got bad hands from snatchin' the tape
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| Keep the murder tape like Larenz Tate
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| My mouth airtight, just make sure the money in the bag, aight?
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| Yesterday it was another toe tag, tonight
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| I been a soldier, as my holy grail filleth over
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| Beware of the fail-faced cobra
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| Fuck is you facilitatin'? |
| Hatin', I gets over
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| Wet you like a pissed on sofa
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| Your whole crew get shit on, villain
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| Pump lift your fuckin' body up like the ceilin'
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| I gotta lay low, shooters on deck when I say so
|
| From the cradle, we spray shit like MAACO
|
| On blocks, lay low
|
| Cops finna come, I gotta skate, yo
|
| Too much weed, I need a break, bro
|
| I gotta chill
|
| Or be locked up, or killed
|
| My people tellin' me to destroy and rebuild
|
| But it seems hard to be still
|
| 'Cause niggas steady clappin' steel |