| Dear Lord can you hear me?
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| Do I want them to respect or fear me
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| Nightmares got me sleepin' with the little shotty
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| Though I know I can’t put the barrel to everybody
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| Pray for me now, what makes a soldier?
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| I know it’s no breaths til beef is over
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| Keep your guns warm, my heart goes out to you Seth
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| And my cousin baby just died from crib death
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| Stay with me, just hit me on the celly cell
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| I know sufferin' and pain really well
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| If it don’t kill you, it makes you strong
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| I think of the song, «what's going on»
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| When it’s going wrong
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| When I act like it’s love, and I know it ain’t
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| If it was up to you, y’all niggas would be throwin' paint
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| On my outfit, like he ain’t about shit
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| Before you talk about shit, take your mitts of my mini fountain
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| See I had geeks, and all y’all really had was feet
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| And you ain’t never had a beef, so why you had to speak
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| Fasten your seat, and I’mma take ya on a mission, nigga
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| I teach my own how to keep my own, listen nigga
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| Get the check, pay ya dues, or pay ya respect
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| Or pay attention, cuz I already paid the rest, to just
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| Focus on the god, as the God speak
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| Never waste a line like I’m sniffin' on the hard street
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| And as far as we go, you know how the squad see it
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| If it’s love it’s love, if it’s not, so be it…
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| I put my love for boxing, into everything
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| I know the ropes how to read the scale and work the ring
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| I’m military in the mind, hood in the streets
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| Good nigga in the hearts, nothing bout me weak
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| I open shop, rent the blocks, and call the shots
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| You get popped, get knocked, co-operate with cops
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| I get live, survive at one sixty five
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| You nothin' like the god, I’m out raw til I die
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| Smile for me, kiss ya little child for me
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| I know the story, going to bed, feeling hungry
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| Wakin' up dirty, all eyes on me
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| Blinded thug angel til my god call me
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| I brought you up, from the ground up
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| Now you wanna run and say my sound suck
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| Tellin' niggas Duck Down butt
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| But ain’t no buts when I come around
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| All you hear is the crowd yell «Buck»
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| Get it right, or get it wrong
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| What’s my name, Buckshot, what ya name
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| Not in this song, heh, sorry no props today
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| Hard on the stretch, fiends won no rocks today
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| Shame, could of been in the game, but now what
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| You shine for an hour, nobody dug ya style, butt
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| The niggas that be geesin' you up
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| Hopin' you hand them a piece of the cut
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| Jesus, it sucks, your reason, is what
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| You don’t got one, big deal, you got guns
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| I got guns, be for real, we can get it on
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| Right now, but stack up, your money short
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| And I’m long right now, I told you |