| Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
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| October 18th '74, the year I was born
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| A young nigga ready for war
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| It’s in my blood to get the 'fetty for sure
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| I was cursed since birth to get the patties slanging faggats are raw
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| And I’m the advocate, crackhead, in '86 we started having shit
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| Rock it and cook it to cut the baggin' is, when crack-ages
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| For my cousin, making twenty off a note
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| But I refused to go broke; |
| my whole family slang dope
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| And my big sister was a little richer cuz she always fucked around with the big
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| pushers
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| I watched niggas break keys in sinks with jackhammers and ginsus
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| Throw me money for tennis shoes
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| I been a dude since high school with latest clothes and them jewels
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| Had me paper chasing, I didn’t finish school
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| I bought a quarter ounce in the ooze
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| Got a crew, hit the block, start hustling like the real niggas do
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| I’m walking in the shoes of Phoenix Mitchell
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| And Little D, I’m balling niggas from my projects I listened to
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| I keep it real with my interviews
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| I was broke as fuck and sleeping on the floor in the village dude
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| I’m just a wise G, why chronic D, smoking finer weed
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| Thick as quarter peak I build a dynasty?
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| So a pistol whip and rob niggas
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| What goes around, comes around cuz I end up getting shot nigga
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| But got love not, my hope don’t stop, I pop bubbly
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| Like the whole block locked, I live lovely
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| And my father was a black gorilla family crack dealer
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| With the house on 'Icula, made scratch for realla
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| That’s why I say it’s in my blood cuz my father was a thug
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| With the Columbian blood, flood the block with drugs nigga!
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| We slang lots of coca with Glocks up in the hosta'
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| La Costra Nostra nigga! |