| You know
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| I never did understand why they always told me to smile
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| It ain’t too much s*** I gave a smile for
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| Real talk
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| Yo still a a**hole by nature
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| Peep game
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| Verse 1 (Trae)
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| I remember comin' up able to love n***a watchin' n****z f*** over
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| They over sea I kept it reala
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| But bein' real ain’t really always what n****z make it to be
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| I never thought we’d make it and I’d have n****z hatin' a G
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| I got enough s*** that I deal with on the day to day
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| Penitentiary’s the life after death don’t seem to go away
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| Even though I never know the outcomes it’s always safe to pray
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| And try to do my best to understand he write a rhyme away
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| I got a call from Mr. Rogers just the other day tellin' me he by my side
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| I’m like what the f*** you talkin' 'bout 'til he told me Lorna died
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| It f***ed me up so much I couldn’t even go to the wake
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| But if her family called I’m gon' make sure that they straight
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| It’s like this part of my life I live is damn near mastered
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| The more people I love the more they get took away faster
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| Sometimes I feel I talk to God a lil more than the pastor
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| Prob’ly been livin' to make sure my son never become a bastard
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| I’ve never been the one to quit I’ve always been the leader
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| But I feel this world is like a b***h and I know I don’t need her
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| If I ever had this I never took the time to meet her
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| So I feel a frown across my face the only way to greet her
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| In the process of bein' Trae I missed out as a child
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| Prob’ly cuz reality must stop
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| And they told my cousin death before he thirty after checkin' his pile
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| He died at 28 so how the f*** am I supposed to smile s***
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| (Styles P)
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| I don’t know my n***a
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| I ask myself the same s*** everyday
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| How the f*** am I supposed to smile
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| Life’s real over here though
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| Y’know
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| Verse 2 (Styles P)
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| Styles don’t smile
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| The hood too foul
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| The lil n****z is wild
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| Men lost trial
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| Hit 'em with some numbers he ain’t eatin' doin' chow
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| He ain’t even sleepin' he been thinkin' 'bout his child
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| It’s real f***ed up but he won’t see him for a while
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| Same bulls*** try’na get you a money pile
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| You don’t see the reefer or the jail doors locked
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| I keep a tech with the air holes cocked
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| Now I don’t wanna shoot or get shot
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| But Pinero’s not
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| Gon' f*** with these f*** n****z or air those Lox
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| It’s real hard to sleep when its money on the mind and
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| Murder on the mind
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| Puffin' on the dutch with a fist full of iron
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| Somebody mom cryin' cuz somebody boy dyin'
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| It’s the same ol' s***
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| Wait till the funeral
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| Same ol' trip
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| Crack money rap money
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| The same ol' grip
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| As Trae could’ve smiled out in Texas
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| Livin' reckless
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| If the cops gon' get you but n****z'll leave you breathless
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| S*** I’m a winner
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| More like a sinner
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| Try’na make it to dinner
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| Then live after breakfast
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| Y’know
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| (Styles P)
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| Trae
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| S.P.
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| How the f*** are we suppose to smile
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| Man
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| Answer me that
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| Maybe I’ll f***in' smile
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| Y’know
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| Verse 3 (Jadakiss)
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| Nothin' to smile about
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| These lil n****z is wildin' out
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| Do somethin' to 'em they dialin' out
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| Everybody lookin' at you like you foulin' out
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| Every hood everywhere that’s what it’s now about
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| The shootas is half your age
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| Give you half the gage
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| Daily news half the page
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| Known as a thug now he ain’t just fly
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| Couple months in the group home in DFY
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| Truthfully what could have been pended but never did
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| And he slid
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| As a youthful offender cuz he’s a kid
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| Problem is
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| The person he shot was connected
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| He comin' home thinkin' he’s sweet and don’t expect it
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| Big but he’s still young
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| To him it’s still fun
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| 360 waves new gear blue steel gun
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| They say you ain’t promised tomorrow
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| They got the drop and hit him right in his head with a hollow |