| I live a lifestyle, covered up by dark clouds
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| Dealin' with these suckas, but they only seem to bark loud
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| Still I keep a strap for when I come across a killa
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| I dreamt the day I’ll have to fight that killa in the mirror
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| I wake up every mornin', hit my fifth and hope I live
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| Just another day to see what tomorrow’s got to give
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| I’m addicted to the liquor
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| And at days I peel the sticker off another 40 ounce
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| And wonder, «How did my life get here?»
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| My ole goes in stayin' drunk and eliminatin' funk
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| Fuckin' hoes or rollin' triple golds always up in the trunk
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| My mother asks me everyday, «Are you still bangin?»
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| I lie and tell her, «No», but her heart knows I ain’t changed none
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| I hate to see her cry, wipe the tears from her eyes
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| And try to tell her everything is gonna be alright
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| I hug her tightly, as I leave it bothers me
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| But for now I gotta go, cuz these streets are callin' me
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| My mother prays that I quit the life I lead
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| Damn I try to change my ways, but these streets are callin' me
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| And I love her to death, but at the same time I’m a souljah |
| I gotta put in work, let rivals know they can’t get over
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| I’m a yoc influenced souljah taking chances
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| I’m levelin' with all my homeboys up in drug induced trances
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| Evil dances through our thoughts as we plot different strategies
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| To kill our enemies and not get caught
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| My homie got shot in the spine, he’s been paralyzed
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| I see nothin' but deep despair when I stare into his eyes
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| I feel my anger rise as I think about his character
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| He never hurt nobody, just a homeboy that was there for ya
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| These streets are really fair, and that’s a hard lesson learned
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| But you realize quick enough after up three time getting burned
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| The streets are cold, bits of love but mostly greed is all they hold
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| You in my way, I’ll burn a load and make yo head explode,
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| That’s my moto
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| Livin' in the bottle, hit the throttle
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| Let this shit start to get you thick, break out the fully-auto
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| Just got done
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| Creasin' up my khakis, put my NIKES on
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| I hear my homeboys outside honkin' the horn
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| I guess tonight’s on
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| Grabbed the tray snubby |
| Give my moms a kiss goodbye
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| As I hop into the ride
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| She prays that I come home alive
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| I can’t justify my life because I know I’m livin' wrong
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| What the fuck do you expect me to do when the funk is on
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| Tryin' to get along, with my rivals
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| Foo, you must be jokin'
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| What you smokin?
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| Hollow tips and pistols clips is what I got for fools approachin'
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| I’m tryin' to get ahead
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| Spitin' high-lead at these rivals ramped up
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| In this life of vega got me homicidal
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| Better check my vital signs
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| Since I’m livin half dead by the thoughts
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| Got my brain washed, fuckin' with my head
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| Break a sweat up in my bed
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| Dude, the nightmares got my body tense
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| But still I’m prepared to die for this so called nonsense
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| Cuz everything is fucked up
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| The whole world is corrupt
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| I’ll never switch up on my homies
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| So consider me stuck, fucked
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| I ain’t trippin' though
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| Yeah my money’s sittin' low
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| But still I got enough to get a four-0 at the liquor store
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| And clothes on my back, plus a gat for these rivals
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| All my only necessities for survival |