| They said the sky is the limit
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| Well I guess it all depends on you
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| And your views
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| In this American dream
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| Don’t tell me that the sky is the limit
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| Cause it ain’t about what you can do
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| It’s a who knows who
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| In this American dream
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| Okay you got criminals everywhere, right?
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| Criminals smugglin' dope across borders to feed America’s high appetite
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| Kis, pounds, ounces, grams, whatever the weight of substance is gettin' sold
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| Cause drugs got a price
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| Home hydroponics, LSD chemist
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| Spoon cookin' heroine, junkies fill up methadone clinics
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| Get caught for crack and catch a long sentence
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| You ask me how I feel about that, maybe you got the wrong witness
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| I heard Jay Z’s cool with Obama
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| Obama must be cool with me then I guess if I’m packin' up this Honda
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| I highly doubt it but fuck it, it’s worth a shout out
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| At least that’s what I tell the judge before I gracefully bowed out
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| Meanwhile, I’m gettin' taken to the county for a seed
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| There’s a news flash on the holdin' cell TV
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| Boston bombed by a terrorist at a marathon
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| 8 year old killed and the killer’s still free
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| Shit is hard to believe
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| They said the sky is the limit
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| Well I guess it all depends on you
|
| And your views
|
| In this American dream
|
| Don’t tell me that the sky is the limit
|
| Cause it ain’t about what you can do
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| It’s a who knows who
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| In this American dream
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| I ain’t no politically savvy citizen
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| I’m just an average man who writes poetry about witnessin' fuckery
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| And these police who always fuck with me
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| Done my fair shire of dirt, my boy, trust in me
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| But I picked music over hustlin', and I made it out luckily
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| Could’ve been on corners droppin' quarters from a bucket seat
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| My cousins preach about the lord but all I see is crime
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| If the Vatican has got the book then what the fuck is mine?
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| Just a line with a hook
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| You might as well be a rapper cause you signed and get booked
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| All the same to a suit
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| Black or white, you still a crook
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| If you ain’t a Justin Leave It to Beaver with that look
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| Then just drop the egg in the skillet, let it cook
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| Who y’all bein' took
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| No I’m not a crook, son but this one ain’t shook
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| But I’m rollin' Mobb Deep, my dreams on a Harley Davidson
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| Pigs, I hardly wave at them, yeah I said hardly
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| If I’m rude then pardon me but remember…
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| They said the sky is the limit
|
| Well I guess it all depends on you
|
| And your views
|
| In this American dream
|
| Don’t tell me that the sky is the limit
|
| Cause it ain’t about what you can do
|
| It’s a who knows who
|
| In this American dream
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| My grandparents retired from 9 to 5s
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| They paid for my hospital bills when mama was doin' lines
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| I wasn’t raised up like the model American
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| But I love what it made me, life is all about where and whens
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| Whos and hows, that ultimately create my heritage
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| My great grandaddy Otis would sit down in his chair and then
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| Smoke a cigarette while he sipped on Muscadine moonshine
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| Homemade, and reminisce about the old days
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| He died of cancer when I was 5
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| I wasn’t allowed to go see him in his casket cause I would’ve cried
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| I got so much value off life in such a short time
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| Memories stick to my heart and today they still apply
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| They used to share crops when they were poor
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| He worked his ass off at the mill and then he opened up a store
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| Both of my granddaddies fought a war
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| So I could say what I’m sayin' in this record for you and yours
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| For you and yours, the truth
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| They said the sky is the limit
|
| Well I guess it all depends on you
|
| And your views
|
| In this American dream
|
| Don’t tell me that the sky is the limit
|
| Cause it ain’t about what you can do
|
| It’s a who knows who
|
| In this American dream |