| All I got is me, myself, and I, yeah
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| Yeah, babe, me, myself, and I
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| Section 8, telegram, yeah
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| All I got is me, myself, and I, got myself again
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| Time is money, I need that money, got no time for no friends
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| Ain’t nobody gon' ride like me, cause I’m gon' ride to the end
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| Been in fucked up situations, where you niggas would bend
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| Play my cards, I never bluff, and I ain’t throwin' my hand
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| Shit, I saw when times got hard, I watched my nigga readin' it He snitched
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| We called that talk, I can’t believe what he did
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| Cause he knew what we was doin' before we went on that lick
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| I been rappin' and snappin', I fell in love with this shit
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| It caught up with me', cause I be jackin' since I was a lil kid
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| I been trippin' and goonin', and throwin' rocks at the pen
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| All that stickin' and movin', it got me doin' it big
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| Look, nobody gon' keep it real how I be keepin' it real
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| Coulda snitched and got released, you know they all for the deal
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| Put myself in tight positions, I can’t even regret em
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| I was schemin', times was hard, and I just needed some cheddar
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| My life a movie, it’s Kodak, I’m the movie director
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| Sometimes a nigga get scared, but I know it’s gon' get better
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| Remember when it was my people, them was gon' send me some letters
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| Cause I was missin' my bitches, and I was missin' my fellas
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| Hot pocket on me, so my pants keep fallin'
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| They wanted to take me out the game, but I just keep on ballin'
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| Polo down, pop my collar, lil nigga shot callin'
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| Could just hold up for me on the other line, guap callin'
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| I’ll get back to you later, I’m rollin' out of my tater
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| I been leanin' so damn much, and now I got me disabled
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| Niggas grindin', be connivin', do shit under the table
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| Just last night, John John got hit by the raiders
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| Fuckin' round on the ugly hit that boy with a taser
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| Once I came out the womb, I jumped straight to teenager
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| They say I’m a demon semen, young boy, hell raider
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| If I ain’t pullin' up in a foreign, then I’m pullin' in caver
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| Project baby paper chasin' tie
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| They dead fly
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| Institution
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| Run up on me, send you straight to your maker,
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| All that kush that I be smokin', you think I’m from Jamaica
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| But hell nah, ain’t from Jamaica, bitch, I’m from golden acres
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| And I’ll tag you with that 9, and that bitch got a laser
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| And I’ll lay a nigga down, I’m like «fuck nigga, paid him»
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| I ain’t bakin, but I’m cakin', I should open a pastry
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| I got dope in the basement |