| Too many times I done been hated on, by 5−0
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| Fuck your badge, I wish all of you bitches would die slow
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| I’m just trying to survive ho, and feed my family
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| And I ain’t killed nobody, but still rough is how they handle me
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| I ride one deep, suspended license and all
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| My middle finger out the window, screaming fuck the law
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| I know what you protect and serve, not a god damn thang
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| But give a nigga five years, for less than a gram mayn
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| They got me feeling Devin, tell me why they do us that way
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| The got me searching for the doja, in a doobie ashtray
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| So I can cope with it, not trying to travel up and smoke with it
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| My kinfolk in the maximum security, for no bidness
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| Sick of I’m missing you, so here’s what I’m fin to do
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| Bounty hunting for badges, fuck a ditch I’ma dig a few
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| The odds are against us, because we black
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| So keep your heat in a stash spot, and always be strapped
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| Mr. officer, crooked officer
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| Make a nigga wanna blow the badge, off of ya
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| We been living hard, so it won’t be soft for ya
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| Fiending to see your blood, until you cough it up
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| Mr. officer, crooked officer
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| We just trying to feed, our sons and daughters sir
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| We been struggling to make it, in America too long
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| All we wanna do is live our life, and be left alone
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| Illegal search 45 minutes, what the fuck you looking for
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| I roll on 24's, so the Dopeman is what they get me for
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| And that’s a shame, a nigga can’t ride nice
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| Without getting harassed, and facing 25 to life
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| I wish I could make a citizen’s arrest
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| Knock the busters in the hole, and blow the badges up off of they chest
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| Controlled substance on the ground, and it just had to be mine
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| Fucking with me about weed, and they look blacker than mine
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| Six months for getting caught up, with a soldier strap
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| They’ll put the felonies on me, but keep your doja sack
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| That’s why they proud to be, an American
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| What about my Negro people, look how they stare at them
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| With evil eyes, they hang a brother daily G
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| The Judicial system, is our modern day slavery
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| We ain’t picking cotton no' mo' bitch, we picking off cops
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| Negro life in association, we issuing out Glocks
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| I put my hands up too slow, and I got shot in the back
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| Thrown in the back of the paddy wagon, left to ride in the pack
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| What about my medical condition, it’s some bullshit
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| We don’t give a damn if you die, one less nigga to deal with
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| Ask me why, I don’t give a fuck about the police
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| Cause all they offer is the penitentiary, with no peace
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| They planting dope on niggas, just to get a commission
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| And if we don’t cooperate, it’ll be a longer stay in prison
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| Everytime I had a flat, they’d just pass me by
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| And if I was laying on the ground, they’d never ask me why
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| But when I’m looking great, and rolling in something they can’t pronounce
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| They looking for any reason, not to let a nigga bounce
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| Whether expired registration, or inspection stickers
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| The only thing be on they mind, is we gon get them niggas
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| And it don’t matter if we working, on a 9-to-5
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| We railroaded by the system, facing 99 |