| Noble Justice…
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| For the future
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| Yeah --- This Outlaw Lifestyle
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| Aye yo…
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| I live life like a young nigga born in corruption
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| God made me famous for my pain and suffering
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| Or maybe that ain’t even the case
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| You gotta watch -- what you wish for dawg
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| It might blow up in ya face
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| Feeling like Young Nobe' in a race
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| Life is like rolling the Ace
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| And I don’t even like showing my face
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| Cause muthafuckas get the wrong impression
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| I ain’t a rapper dawg
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| This just how I make my living
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| It ain’t no telling where I’m supposed to be
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| If Makaveli hadn’t chosen me
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| To til Outlaw royalty
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| The game won’t spoil me
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| I keep dirt in my nails
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| And won’t knock you if you work at the Shell
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| At least a muthafucka got a job
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| That’s ya problem there
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| Knockin' the next man for tryna get theirs
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| You betta try to get yours
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| Cause time is hard
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| And don’t ask about the Lawz
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| Cause we grinding hard
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| Come on…
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| (Chorus)
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| We don’t -- know which way to go
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| When ya ask 'em
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| Don’t nobody seem to know
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| Either the right or you down the wrong road
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| But I don’t eat, don’t sleep, don’t
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| We don’t -- know which way to go
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| When ya ask 'em
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| Don’t nobody seem to know
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| Either the right or you down the wrong road
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| But I don’t eat, don’t sleep, don’t
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| We don’t know
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| (Young Noble)
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| I thought you niggas said you want chips
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| (ya life is ya own)
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| I ain’t tryna bump fa' shit
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| I’m tryna stack it for my grand kids
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| Handle ya biz
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| And get it how it come
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| And seeing is believing
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| Yall blind as fuck
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| Til some niggas in ya living room tyin' ya up
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| For a couple of bucks
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| You been oweing for months
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| Let it pile up
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| It all coming down at once
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| On ya shoulders while you standing up
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| Add it up
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| That probably mean you gon' fall dawg
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| All my niggas tatted up
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| They call us the OUTLAWZ
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| And that means we the family by any means
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| I ratha' sell CD’s then work at Micky D’s
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| I can’t knock that
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| I love a Big Mac
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| And everybody don’t know how to rap
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| So if you got a little hustle
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| Or got a little talent
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| You better get it cracking
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| Don’t be scared of the challenge
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| Come on…
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| (Chorus)
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| (Nutt-So)
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| Picture my life
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| (ya life is ya own)
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| Droppin' to my toes
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| Ran to the curb
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| Sniffin' coke thru my nose
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| Hell naw
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| Can’t go out like that
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| Before I do
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| Run up in the bank and hit the big sack
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| But on the other hand
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| I’m still stuck in the streets
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| Murder -- hustle -- fa' bread so my girls could eat
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| Ain’t no soul finna stand in my way
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| From this money -- or for this
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| 'Fore-Fore slug nose tucked in my waist
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| This fast lane got me driven to the,
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| Point of nervousness
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| Got me drawin' down pistols on innocent nurses
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| It’s pure ghetto
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| And my reaction is blast fully
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| On the nearest muthafucka standing close in the Hoody
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| I’m paranoid
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| But the money is flowing steady
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| Coppin' anything I dream
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| Pushin' this shit heavy
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| I was stackin' til I was crackin' a ceiling
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| With loot -- and proof
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| And now a nigga crackin' the roof
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| It’s my thang
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| (Chorus)
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| Ya life is ya own… |