| I came up with my man, same hood, same age
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| Witheld names to protect the guilty and
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| Your boy Free was filthy, same clothes, different day
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| Be the first to admit it, while niggaz claim to be willies, hey
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| We cleaned up the first donny I drove
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| Cooled up the first tommy I seen, follow the flow
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| Smoke a timmy, with this semi, made his chimney move
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| Nerves made his body shake, everybody froze
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| So young with a pump and a mac
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| Still manage to make it the magic, the bad kids
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| On the block, with a bundle of crack, package of pills
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| All heads will try to teach us to rhyme
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| He said Muhammed walk with a sword, I roll with a gat
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| This the same shit, different day, from times
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| Now my man Book ain’t writing me back
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| So I figured, I’ll try to reach 'em with rhymes, no listen to Mac
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| We thuggin’for life
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| Gonna take it, oww
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| And then enough
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| Ain’t no mistakin'
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| But it’s for life, it’s my life
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| Not for the taking
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| To all my boys in the hood, the East coast throw boy back
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| From the land of them throw boys black
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| I keep my toast in the hood, gon’squeeze
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| Hope you throw yours back
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| Come to the streets to bring my homeboys back
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| Blew my mind out this piece, but I’m always back
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| I got sheet in my air, like mac, fall away back
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| Shiit, I’m trynna come way up And make the path so freak, I tear the runaway up Uh, my life a bitch with a period on But still I keep it real, dog, I’m hittin’it raw
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| And I don’t know how to carry this bitch
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| Sometime I wanna marry this bitch
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| Sometimes I feel like quitting this whore
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| But I can’t cause it feel like, giving it all
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| I’ve been on so fucking much, feel like my living was all
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| But in my lifetime, I’m a deliver regrets
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| Still with the evils, know that one day I’ma sit with the boss
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| (Beanie Sigel)
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| It’s not even close, we throw toast, sleep with ya gats
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| It’s the worst of both hoods, holla at 'em Mac
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| (Follow up exact with the Mac, and the v Get back, if you happen to see, the Mac or Free, at where you be)
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| I be where you at, I come where you live
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| The cat untuckle the gat, manuever the thing
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| (The Mac untuckin’a pump, removin’they wig, with ease
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| Hear the feds trynna ruin the boss Sieg'
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| Before they kill me like Cornbread, you be like Diallo
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| Before I’m stuck like luima, I be up when you need it)
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| And I’ma ride for you, lace up my sneakers, puffin’my reefer
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| Tuckin’my heater, duckin’your rounder, uh Tell 'em tricks they gonna die when I see 'em
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| Let 'em know my friend colt 45 trynna meet with they mind
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| But we keep drama, think, rhyme is the reason
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| And Freeway the reason that you tied up in pajamas, uh |