| Up all night, up all day
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| Up all night up all day
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| See some of us trying to get paid
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| I had to keep from going under, like Stevie I Wonder
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| Thinking hard, running out of places to lay my head got me drinking hard liquor
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| Still a go killer, should I rely on my skills
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| In the mist of poverty it must be the straight up get to an ending peal off
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| Recognizing the drama offense of living in my life
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| Got to go get it and come back with it until it’s prison in my life
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| Born struggling, a nigga acheived his bubbling
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| The fact that I can’t get no job can’t do nothing but rub it in
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| 20 years old, I was screaming I would reach 25
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| Now 24 and still no dough I started struggle and strive
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| I was a Bridgemont hardhead, yellow and purple repper
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| And never let another nigga check us, nigga that was low yet
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| Use to live with Z-Ro all in your deck
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| But back in 1995 I would of been all in your chest
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| With a pistol grip punk giving up for you gone die tonight
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| Since I’m going through the bitch that more for the night, come off the ice
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| Up all night day, up all day
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| See some of us trying to get paid
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| Back in the doghouse, the love I give nigga my cellmate said
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| You reach your freedom when you die but if you rapping single bread
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| Already knowing I’m throwed when my pen is pimping
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| Having visions of me in a V-12 motor corners my benz bending
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| Straight down to the T I’d have a?
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| I promise I’ll do it right this time wait till the g get free
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| If I could make the jail house all of that Mo-Town live
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| When I ain’t T.W. |
| to the free the rap game is mine soon as I get signed off
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| Lock, a thug nigga fresh out the jail house
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| Still addicted to hustling attempted to pull my steel out
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| Show me the money, I’m gone show what you need
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| Half a ticket and a half-a-gallon and a quarter ounce of weed
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| I’m your mama I’m your daddy I’m that nigga in the alley
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| That when I go straight, but the prices be so cheap in the valley
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| I had to keep my mind right and keep my rhymes tight
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| Praying to god I wouldn’t lose my freedom or my life before the limelight
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| Motherfucking all night, I put the heat to the dro, pass the lighter
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| Hitting stage till my vision gets brighter
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| Remember poverty, it ain’t a part of the plan
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| Cause while I’m on the corner hustling with work in my hand
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| Like a super star selling rocks, because the stage becomes a block
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| But my plot is put my trust up in my Glock
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| Z-Ro the ghetto rap versus the world but could I lose
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| But even though I’m still paying dues, I’m still the last man standing
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| With a mad cannon ready to bust
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| Look how I did after I left that nigga dead in the dust
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| Cause I’ma ride when it’s time to ride strictly for cash
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| I’m doing bad so I’m leaning on a beam and a mask
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| A Mo-City nigga, we don’t know how to show pity nigga
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| Sold up your block and take over your whole city nigga
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| Me and Skinny Garaw, we at your front door
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| Aggravated cause it’s tough on the pole
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| (Reesa vocalizing) |