| I know I’m such a fool, I gave him all he needed
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| Traded my heart and soul, for 18 karat gold
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| I know it’s hard and you feel like everybody, shot ya down, shot ya down
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| I know it’s hard and you feel like everybody shot ya down, shot ya down
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| With a bullet through the heart I popped the gun…
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| This goes out to the artists of my time
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| Painting Mona Lisa’s and such
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| But yet when the rent starts to climb
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| Can’t afford their leases and such
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| They work hard for a decent little cut
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| Enough to let paint seep from the brush
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| When I scribble I think of everybody from the lower to the middle class we
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| might touch
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| Can’t put a price tag on a real flow
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| Can’t put a body bag on a real soul
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| Can’t put a stop sign in front of a rock star when his goal and his dream is to
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| kill shows
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| Young artist, clever thoughts
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| When he follows his dreams, he’s never lost
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| What’s worth a lot of money now, here in the present
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| Is the very same art in the past, people never bought
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| And damn it’s real
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| Still paint on the canvas ill
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| Cause I’ve gotta keep it moving forward man no standing still
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| Shit, shit, damn it’s real
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| Still paint on the canvas ill
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| Cause I’ve gotta keep it moving forward man no standing still
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| DJ I love this song, (my) heart is torn in pieces
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| (the) future baby that is gone, (I) played it all night long
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| I know I’m such a fool, I gave him all he needed
|
| Traded my heart and soul, for 18 karat gold
|
| I know it’s hard and you feel like everybody, shot ya down, shot ya down
|
| I know it’s hard and you feel like everybody shot ya down, shot ya down
|
| With a bullet through the heart I popped the gun…
|
| Van Gogh’s, Divinci’s, Basquiat’s, Warhol’s
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| Jay-Z's, 2Pac's, Lupe’s, Paul Wall’s
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| Whoever you pin up on your wall
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| In your room, it’s your call
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| It’s your movie, it’s your scene
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| We just symbolize your dreams
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| Please understand what it means to be great
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| When your talent becomes your escape
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| So much to the point your reality is replaced by the place that you trace
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| And that place that you trace, and always easy to relate
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| If it was then it wouldn’t be so safe, from the people tryna get up in your
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| space…
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| But fuck it, gold chains, gold chains
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| One thing that you’ll never see is a hood nigga with no chains
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| Hipster kid without a rope chain
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| Drug dealers with no shame
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| And me without my notepad just analyzing that whole thing
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| If life punches, you punch back
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| Cause if not then your dreams die and trust me you don’t want that
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| All I need is my one mic, my one truth, and my one track
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| Cause once you lose that one love, you’ll never get that one back |