| Cause it’s a motherfucking shame, all these short
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| Comings in the game, hoe ass niggas, hoe ass bitches
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| Know I’m saying
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| I’m still King of the Ghetto, ain’t a damn thang changed
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| Still sip out the prescription bottle, with hydro on my brain
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| It help a nigga make it through the drama, swear to God
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| I be feeling like busting heads, and relocate to the Bahamas
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| But I don’t wanna be a runaway, I love my block
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| But I can’t seem to put my gun away, friends be killing friends
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| So I don’t make no ends, with nobody I know
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| Cause if nobody gets nervous, then nobody’s gotta go That’s the G-Code, and I will busting simply, then I will reload
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| Sick of all of this gun bumping, from you people
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| Turning a Christian into someone who is evil, Z-Ro
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| Motherfuckers all up in my business, broadcasting my life
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| Presidential Records suing Z-Ro, and his pockets ain’t right
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| Why they wanna spread rumors, bout Ro Dog
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| Turn me to a menace to society like O-Dog
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| It’s a shaa-aa-ame, the way they fuck around with my mind
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| It’s a shaa-aa-ame, the way they try to hurt me It’s a shaa-aa-ame, the way they got me walking round with my nine
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| Raised on game, a soldier that’s showing no mercy
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| When I wake up, I be wishing to find another way to make a living
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| Baking a cake, back in the kitchen got my palms itching
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| Scratch that with a fat stack, of Benjamin Franklin, y’all better
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| Back back trying to get my stack, I got a black mack in a black backpack
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| I know you jealous niggas, hate me cause I shine
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| They know I be rolling one deep, trying to follow behind
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| I gotta handle my business, by myself cause I’m alone
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| Really nothing to live fo', no more wife no more kids at home
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| Ain’t that a shame, I’m losing everything I love
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| When they fuck up its okay, but when it’s me they hold a grudge
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| You think I ain’t know, you was fucking over Z-Ro
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| With Lil’Shannon around the time, your vehicle was repoed
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| My love for you was that of a mother, one I never had
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| I know we could never be again, I’m forever sad
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| But a hustler, gotta keep hustling
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| Until then, I-10 drug smuggling
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| Sometimes I be wondering, if I’m ever gon make it Ducking and dodging poverty, am I ever gon shake it Every nigga I deal with, keeps saying they down
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| Why my money be funny, everytime it be coming round
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| I told him tell em 25 hundred, he told em three thousand
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| Making me miss out on money, Sam gon witness me clowning
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| When you give a nigga a inch, they try to take the whole ruler
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| After my inches, nothing but the forty-four ruger
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| Who am I, Z-Ro the Crooked I’m not a hoe
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| But instead of busting your head, I’ma go on and let you go
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| I’ma receive my blessing, better believe my weapon
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| Is a first, from the basic instructions before leaving earth
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| The bible, and if we follow it properly its survival
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| We gotta listen sometimes, even though we wanna all shine
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| And glisten sometimes, remember we on a heavenly mission sometimes
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| (*talking*)
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| One love to my motherfucking soldier niggas
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| J-Pimp, my nigga Rice aka sliding up under something
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| When they get outta line |