| My life is like a mercy game, ducking and dodging crooked cops
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| On a mission fishing for feddy, ready to make a knot
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| I’m use to having less, and I just can’t deal with the stress
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| And it seems like everywhere I go, another nigga wanna test
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| Brother don’t disrespect yourself and get yourself up in a, vine
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| Cause I’m a maniac with a mac, and a black back-pack
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| Smoking up on the urban fat sack, I’m trying to keep from going off
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| But niggas be trying to make me starve, when I need groceries in my house
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| Wicked niggas say they be friends, but end up trying to kill your friends
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| Always turn to foes, that’s saying it’s over millions
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| Dealing with dirty niggas on a daily basis
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| Don’t really wanna fuck with em, but see they baby faces
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| I gotta survive
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| Let me live my life, nigga don’t fuck with me
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| To deal out these deeds, then you die
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| And when it’s my time hope I don’t, cry
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| Living in the ghetto, day by day
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| I’m bumping trying to make a profit, cause I gotta get my pay
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| You better, keep watching me and
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| Pretty soon, you’ll see man
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| That I’m a real rich nigga from the Houston streets
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| Fried out licking, looking for something to eat
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| I’m on a mission, whipping birds like they stole something
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| Pain, it make me wanna roll something
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| I’m a soldier, and I’m outta my mind
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| Voice mail beeping for days, cause I’m out on the grind
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| Guess my daddy didn’t love me, cause he turned his back
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| Therefor the streets is my people, a nigga learned like that
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| And I haaaad to get up, and bleed the block
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| And it don’t stop
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| My nigga Herman Fisher doing fed time
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| I remember like it was yesterday, it made the headlines, damn
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| I had to start all over, but it didn’t matter cause I was a soldier
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| Walking around with a king size chip on my shoulder
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| Missing my mama while I Iay down, on benches to sleep
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| Snatching purses and hopping fences just to eat
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| Still I maintain, I’m still in the same game chasing paper
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| Bitch niggas be up in my business, like oops I’m erasing haters
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| I’m S.U.C. |
| for life, KMJ until I’m finished
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| Like Popeye from the ghetto, but a nigga don’t need no spinach
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| All I need is my Nina when I be flipping birds
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| Cause all I have in this world, is my balls and my word |