| Hurt, to think that you lied to me
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| Hurt, way down deep inside of me
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| And it breaks my heart…
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| Get paid a pretty Penny for my thoughts
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| I’m Hardaway with grammar, I’m hot
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| They only care 'bout a nigga when he handle the rock
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| Or when he dishing the pill, or when he grippin' the steel
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| Bailing out my brother, tell the lawyer «get the appeal»
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| With the flick of the pen, write the check and he out
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| Two years later he be at my shows checking me out
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| Know he proud of lil bro and how my records be out
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| Flashbacks to childhood when he was deckin' me out
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| Now it’s clear lil Maine is the best mc out
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| Hands down, flow water, can’t drown
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| My flow father, go harder, Cole smarter
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| Shout out to fiends in Queens, I’m team no daughters
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| I seen it all at this young age
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| The only thing left to do is die and hit front page
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| Should I knock on wood and pray like God forbid?
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| These hoes be poppin' pills, these niggas be poppin' shit, bitch
|
| Pac on the mic in his prime
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| They only care 'bout a nigga when he writing a rhyme, boy
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| Kenny Lofton, you feelin' my pace?
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| They only care 'bout a nigga when he stealin' the base
|
| It’s like I’m Wilt the Stilt, I’m fucking them all
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| They only care 'bout a nigga when he dunkin' the ball, mane
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| And it breaks my heart
|
| The world’s a stage, I’ll just play my part
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| Just caught fire like a young Richard Pryor with unforgettable quotes
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| They only care 'bout a nigga when tellin' a joke, or when he’s sellin' his dope
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| They tell the reverend «Man, I rather get to heaven with coke
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| Then live in hell and be broke»
|
| Shout out to black man who beat the odds by yellin' for hope
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| Today he asked if I could Twitter y’all and tell you to vote
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| My nigga, how could I, knowing what I know
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| It’s a game of charades, masquerade for the dough
|
| Read the teleprompter these niggas is actors on the low
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| Yeah I voted for the nigga 'cause he got the best show
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| Like I got the best flow
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| On your mark, set, go
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| Mama got us out the hood but we still ghetto
|
| I seen it all at this young age
|
| The only thing left to do is die and hit front page
|
| Should I knock on wood and pray like God forbid?
|
| These hoes be poppin' pills, these niggas be poppin' shit, bitch
|
| Pac on the mic in his prime
|
| They only care 'bout a nigga when he writing a rhyme, boy
|
| Kenny Lofton, you feelin' my pace?
|
| They only care 'bout a nigga when he stealin' the base
|
| It’s like I’m Wilt the Stilt, I’m fucking them all
|
| They only care 'bout a nigga when he dunkin' the ball, mane
|
| And it breaks my heart
|
| The world’s a stage, I’ll just play my part
|
| I said, you wouldn’t know the truth if it was right there in your face
|
| See I can’t explain the feeling when the feds surround your place
|
| In that PJ Rosé, I drink that shit by the case
|
| Like somebody pray for me, Reverend Run, Pastor Mase
|
| See I do this for my homie he got caught with a soft eight
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| When I say a soft eight, yeah that’s two less than ten
|
| If they let him out today he gon' do it all again
|
| Say he lost the first time it won’t stop until he win
|
| Street life will have you drunk, I’m talkin Seagram’s Gin
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| Yeah we screamin' Scarface, but we all know how that ends
|
| Every word is like dope, you can snort it like lines
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| If I said it, then I meant it, they reciting' every line
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| If I had to write a book, it would be the Life and Times
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| Every verse is that work, you can weigh it like a nine
|
| You see I lost a lot of niggas and it broke my heart
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| Life is staged, I just played my part
|
| Haha, yeah
|
| Pac on the mic in his prime
|
| They only care 'bout a nigga when he writing a rhyme, boy
|
| Kenny Lofton, you feelin' my pace?
|
| They only care 'bout a nigga when he stealin' the base
|
| It’s like I’m Wilt the Stilt, I’m fucking them all
|
| They only care 'bout a nigga when he dunkin' the ball, mane
|
| And it breaks my heart
|
| The world’s a stage, I’ll just play my part |