| It was all us crammed in the house
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| Back when my dad was the man of the house
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| A lot of dads left, they abandoned the house
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| My dad Joe Jack, start a band in the house
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| He said one friend, one friend in the house
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| Only one friend in the whole wide world
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| One day will come when you only have each other
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| Never give it up for a boy or a girl
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| We come in peace but we don’t come in pieces
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| We on some tag-team WWE shit
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| We look just alike, the prestige is so prestigious
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| The splitting image of Lupita standing on them beaches
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| Don’t tweak and don’t be facetious
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| Those shells’ll shred you to pieces
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| These niggas faking like demons
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| But I’ma send 'em to Jesus (It's just me and my bro)
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| Versus all of you heathens
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| They think I’m reading Ephesians
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| I have all these niggas hiding, avoiding meetings like vegans
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| I got the keys like I’m Keegan
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| I’ll line the trunk with the bleach
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| And I’ll leave you inside the freezer and let you chill for the weekend
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| But forget over the weekend and come back inside a month
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| And I throw you inside the trunk but it’s plastic so it ain’t leakin'
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| But we can be cool
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| We can be cool
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| Me and my brother
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| We can be cruel
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| Find your ass
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| Line your ass up
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| Go to work on 'em
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| Roosters calling in the distance
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| It’s a lot more crammed in the house
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| Back when Chance was the man of the house
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| Baseball bats if they ran in the house
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| We from out south like birds in the clouds
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| When I was eleven, heard my homie dad died
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| This shit deeper than music, I got PTS for life
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| So if you do production just make sure the drums right
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| The independent Bennetts will never need your advice
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| Our image won’t diminish 'cause Charlie and Marley right
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| Me and Chano like Peschi and Robin’s life
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| A made man, we just makin' the songs right
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| You just makin' the song hype
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| I really snapped, the last time I rapped I was movin' packs
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| In adolescence, seen ambulances, learned other lessons
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| Catchin' blessings, overstretchin' from first-hand impressions
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| Chano called my phone voicemail, hope he don’t get a message
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| Heard that I exit from my axis off that intersection
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| So if you say somethin' 'bout big bro, bitch, I’ma smack you reckless
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| We from down south, we bogus twice and we are not from Texas
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| One more rep, can’t run around strapped, so I walk around like pedestrian
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| Chi-town summer lookin' like my numbers, and you know how I’m bomin',
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| ain’t checkin' it
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| Called big bro, now we run it up, set it up, get it up, nigga, now let’s begin
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| OTF, free Durk and them
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| We was inside with a curfew then
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| What’s fire without earth and wind?
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| And what’s a fight when it’s worth the win? |
| Yeah |