| Yup!
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| Um
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| Ugh
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| Yeah
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| There’s a rainbow everywhere dependin' on where you stand
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| Whether the dashboard of yay or the walls 100 grand each
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| Double R, interior tan, outside is peach
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| Oh, you trying to make a deal out in Golden Beach?
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| Or the Florida Keys, ducking the Florida Ds
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| But you only end up with bricks of sand
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| I know niggas that run from they shadows like Peter Pan
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| Runnin' like it’s a Nike commercial, but he the man
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| What he don’t like, on sight, he murk like he’s the Klan
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| Eightballs the size of baseballs like Jeter’s hand
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| It’s fecal, fam—yeah, it’s the shit
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| Zip your face up when Skateboard is on the script
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| Catch me in the Gap V with some BBC trunks
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| Flip flops, sippin' on Qream like it’s punch
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| I push the spaceship with the chrome lady in the front
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| Bendin' over like she just puffed Busta’s blunt
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| I told y’all muh’fuckas once: I think I’m hungry
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| Finna eat y’all niggas' lunch, y’all niggas cunts
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| I’m from the commonwealth where wealth ain’t common
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| When niggas roll around with chrome solvers
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| Looking for problems
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| Mouth full of gold, flame when they roll
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| Arthritic fingers: niggas bang when they stroll
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| Tradin' in the hats for the cane and the gold
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| The golds for the chain and the 'caine was on swole
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| Ayo Tip, get these peon niggas told
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| Still stand tall when it all falls down
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| Whether Hollywood Hills or a one-horse town
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| You should know better
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| There’s no better than these four letters
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| More than ever, niggas want me dead
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| 'Cause they’re starving and I’m getting fed
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| But fuck 'em anyway
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| I’d rather be me on my worst day
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| Than to be a sucka nigga on his birthday
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| All cake, no candles, just a living example
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| Ten toes down, all out, no sandals
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| Godfather, young Marlon Brando
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| Let me make sure they understand, yo
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| Here ye, hear ye, you wise, you fear me
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| Real niggas on their shine, much obliged, merci!
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| Everybody want to criticize him
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| 'Bout how bad he ended up; |
| ook how bad he could’ve been
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| I could’ve caught a body, sold a brick to somebody
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| Who volunteered my information to the federales
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| I made it out of all of that like I ain’t gonna be proud of that
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| So petty shit you sticking to me? |
| Give me all you got of that
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| Doing this for all my niggas
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| Who’d rather go to prison than to let a nigga kill 'em
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| So we leaving this PO snub-nose in his denim
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| Trap or death is waiting 'round the corners that he been in
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| On bended knee, God forgive us, we been sinnin'
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| In our defense, look at the options we was given
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| Laying in the prison cell staring at the ceiling
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| Back in this bitch again, guess they wasn’t bullshitting, huh?
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| Still wonder where it all went wrong
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| Since Phil got killed, I ain’t never moved on
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| Like I’m still in the club where the blows got thrown
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| When my crown fell down and I got dethroned
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| Bunch of niggas around but I feel all alone
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| Like a piece of me is missing; |
| guess it never came home
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| Probably died in the van when it all hit the fan
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| Save the life of a friend: we don’t all get the chance
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| Now, here I stand, with blood on my hands
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| Trying hard to explain so his mom understand
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| I’m at fault for the loss of the soul of a man
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| Only soldiers know how that’ll take a toll on a man
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| Burdens of the world on my shoulders: heavy
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| Visibly composed, my emotions: buried
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| Scary, so if I pop a pill
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| Smoke a blunt or take a shot, y’all, let a nigga live
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| Still baffled how my life unraveled
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| In the meantime, time just travelled
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| Can’t see behind the walls of my castle
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| Opinionated peon, son, but who asked you?
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| I tell you: what you do, take your 2 cents
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| Kick rocks to a fountain, pitch 'em and make a wish
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| Shit, if wishes had wings
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| They’d all make it to heaven and we’d all be kings
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| Hahaha! |
| If wishes had wings
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| They’d all make it to heaven and we’d all be kings
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| Yeah! |