| Early morning trappin', had to get it all day
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| Rats in them hood streets, piss up in them hallways
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| Daddy said he was comin', and I was waitin' all day
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| I got caught up movin' rounds, same excuse always
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| It’s why I don’t trust people, that’s how I give it up
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| Nothin' come with disappointments when you give a fuck
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| Why should He answer my mama prayers
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| When I caused a nigga’s mama grief?
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| I’m way too personal for these kinda beats
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| Still young, the hood need us
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| But I’m torn between the life, the sets, and these drugs
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| And these groupies and the skeezers
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| The pictures and the tweeters, bury me with the .40
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| No disrespect but I never met this so-called Jesus
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| It could be the drugs, or the is’s turned was
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| You know the friends, the bitches
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| Man, everything switches
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| Only thing promised is the ditches
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| Either they miss you or good riddance
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| Of course some niggas slippin' with that llama
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| What if that 3AM call was to my mama?
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| Damn, what if that 3AM call was to my mama?!
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| In and out of the streets
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| Just tryin' to stay alive
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| Lookin' up to the sky
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| But you get no reply
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| We keep on prayin', oh
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| But ain’t nothin' changin', no
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| Ain’t nothin' changin'
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| Ain’t nothin' changin' but the drawers and the socks
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| Before rap I was on tour sellin' rocks
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| My hypeman was a Glock
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| Had to stand nights, but now my nightstand got a watch
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| That these niggas never saw before
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| Like I ain’t stick shit, like I ain’t sell raw before
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| My general rank is a five star
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| Always been ready to die, that’s why I’m alive, y’all
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| It’s old Ghost and young Surf
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| I’m into long money and gunwork
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| Wanna talk funds though? |
| Let me hit the blunt first
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| Say somethin' I don’t like, I’ll let the gun jerk
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| You push me, I’ll pull this shit
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| Always been an asshole, but never been full of shit
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| Thinkin' about life
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| On some could’ve/would've/should've shit
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| Ain’t nothin' changed, my nigga, how hood is this?
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| In and out of the streets
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| Just tryin' to stay alive
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| Lookin' up to the sky
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| But you get no reply
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| We keep on prayin', oh
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| But ain’t nothin' changin', no
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| Ain’t nothin' changin'
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| I cock it back and say a prayer
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| Lord, protect me when I ride out
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| Be my eyes while I ride, spell the i’s out
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| Remember schemin' late, high as hell in the hide-out
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| Now I’m flyin' planes close enough to see God house
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| I relapsed a little bit
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| In project hallways, in the trap a little bit
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| Fuck it, keep me motivated
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| Lil niggas see me in the hood
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| That’s how they know we made it
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| Hood swag, hood still salute me when I pull past
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| Bump my damn self, Newark playin' on full blast
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| Keep prayin', I be slackin', grandma picked it up
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| Think I heard a voice, when I saw it wished to lift it up
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| Bloody murder, better him than me
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| ‘Cause me leavin' woulda just hurt her
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| And we don’t need that
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| So I swear I listen, but I still let that thing clap
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| Shit, I still let that thing clap
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| In and out of the streets
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| Just tryin' to stay alive
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| Lookin' up to the sky
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| But you get no reply
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| We keep on prayin', oh
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| But ain’t nothin' changin', no
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| Ain’t nothin' changin' |