| Go back the way you came
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| Wrong way uh, if you stay
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| Prepare to have yo' shit rearranged
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| The way, I say
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| Where gold niggas spoon whipping over Pyrex
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| And brown skin acute spineless
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| With two kids, hood-minded
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| See adolescents fall victim to the mindless
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| Yeah, so baby-sitters, if you love us
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| And never pet the piggies, hide the chickens in the covers
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| See that’s the family stones and drop jewels
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| That’s the only way the family love us
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| My momma water whipping while my daddy in a jail
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| Cause fast life look better than a J-O
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| And don’t this feel like '95 nigga?
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| A drive-by killed 5 niggas
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| So what you doing with your life nigga?
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| And I reply, «Getting high, nigga»
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| An introduction to the hopeless
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| Generations passed down to the dope biz
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| Like I ain’t got no, no crazy-ass, cliche-ass, you know what I’m saying?
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| One of those stories. |
| One of those hip-hop stories coming from,
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| you know what I’m saying, the struggle. |
| We was in the hood but,
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| you know what I’m saying? |
| My momma never… she always got me what I,
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| what I needed, she always provided for me even when my dad didn’t.
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| You know I had a pops, even when my dad wasn’t always around, I always had a
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| pops, so I don’t know man, I always said I was gonna do this so I guess I’m
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| tryna actually do it and I have fell in love with this shit man,
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| I just love this shit
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| You better go back the way you came
|
| Wrong way
|
| If you stay
|
| Prepare to have your shit rearranged
|
| The way
|
| I say
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| You better get on away from here
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| You gon see
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| It’s gon be some
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| Slow singing
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| And flower bringing
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| If my burglar alarm start
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| You don’t wanna fall in love with me |