| Low profile, rap style
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| slick as new now
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| give the crew pounds
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| every time we cover them grounds
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| still surviving but there’s a few down
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| back in the essence
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| I’m asking questions on the phone
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| with jail adolescence
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| crying confession, the system’s supplying the pressure
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| my mind is guessing
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| Is living and dying a lesson
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| but not to be obliged with the mirage
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| of cars taking you off track
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| from with the gods focus on hard
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| Laid up smoking cigars
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| motioning maids to bring me toast and eggs
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| kosher, Ice chokers and wolves to smoke ya my wisdom culture lives in ultra madness
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| devoted coach bag bitch
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| broke the average nigga’s hopes to get mad rich
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| But what’s the purpose
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| only the gods can watch the Earth twist
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| I’m physically trapped down on the surface
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| with all the crack merchants
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| snakes and serpents
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| foul jakes the searches
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| clowns with four pounds this ain’t a circus.
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| Chorus (R. Kelly)
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| Street dreamer
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| Oh mercy mercy me Ain’t nothing I got for ya Situations get heavy
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| Heavy, heavy
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| Trying to be a gangster.
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| (Nas)
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| The black clouds over the hood
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| I’m on the corner with the thugs
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| late night under the moon
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| as they assume I’m slanging drugs
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| cause I’m hooded up thought a G a night wasn’t good enough
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| pushed my luck
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| yo they had a brother put in cuffs
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| Luckily, made it out of court comfortably
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| judge said I need a job ain’t nothing coming free
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| could’ve got a one to three
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| I try to school these shorties under me but they can’t see
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| From life to death
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| so know we back to where we never left the ghetto
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| It’s a damn shame
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| knowing it’s a man’s game
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| shorty thinks it’s time to make ya plans change
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| all that running round trying to chase
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| what’s already here — been there
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| it’s going no where
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| pops told me knuckle up — no fear
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| I wish some of these killings
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| they could be prevented
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| whatever happens it was written
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| meaning God meant it but during ya life you put ya heart in it even though it seems we being targeted
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| let that brother R hit it Chorus (extended)
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| (Nas)
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| Sort of wild, since a child
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| hope was all we had
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| drip the bust out past
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| complaning the mental straining
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| how many in my crew is into gaining
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| subtract the weak links about the chaining
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| rise it start raining
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| Blasphemy using Nas name in vain
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| some plain supreme being
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| yet they lied in his name
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| I tried to learn the game
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| and the only thing I found incredible
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| everything I tried to learn
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| see, I already knew
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| And it’s embedded in my heart now
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| so I can sit back, count a stack
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| and play my part now
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| I saw my life flash in front of my eyes
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| he wore disguise
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| put a gun to me hungry he went on to chastize
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| That’s Nas ain’t it made it rich from entertainment
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| fresh wally’s painted
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| as he told the kid he came with
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| my first thought was how the game flip
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| Yo perhaps it was somebody I smacked
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| drunk in a party on yak
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| or was I marked for a contract
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| for some foul act
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| a little while back or beyond that
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| you got me laying face flat
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| saying my grace black
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| woke up in a cold sweat
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| Yo, I hate that
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| My air like I lost in the battlefield
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| that’s why I hit the mic with mad appeal
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| grab ya shield and meet ya maker
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| Queens niggas die for paper
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| these the things the street dreams will take ya. |