| Fuck that bright shit
|
| The spot or the flashlights
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| We in L.A. ducking both
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| In the shadows with lead pipes
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| The days are all night
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| See if I pay Edison
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| No medicine
|
| These blues ain’t more better when
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| My fever rise in the jungle
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| As quick as the price spikes
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| The days are all night
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| My future snapped like a rubber band
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| Off my fold on a hand to hand
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| He drew from his waist
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| I put two in his roof
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| And I can still hear his screams
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| All night
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| Now they ride their portfolios
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| Like rodeos
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| Rise every time my cherry glows
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| On the end of my cig as
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| The smoke blows through the bars
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| And the co’s laugh fades
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| As he strolls away
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| Says I gotta pay
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| Off that roll away
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| Or its fuck your visitation days
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| And I pop off so in solitaire
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| I dream of offing these Fred Astaires
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| And the skin off my fingers tear
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| We digging for windows here
|
| Where the days are all night
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| This city’s a trap my partner
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| Under the lights of they choppers
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| Bodies tools for they coffers
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| Not worth the cost of our coffins
|
| I stare at a future so toxic
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| No trust in the dust of a promise
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| Won’t mark the name on a ballot
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| So they can be free to devour our options
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| And just like you I’m a target
|
| Ill defined by the guap in my pocket
|
| But the stage make figures
|
| As quick as it off em
|
| What Marley and Pac get?
|
| I put these caps in capitals
|
| Leave minds blazed in they capitols
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| I step with a fury so actual fact
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| That my offense could be capital
|
| We digging for windows here |