| Lately I just say I’m outta town
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| Cause I don’t really care to be around
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| I been making up for my mistakes
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| I’ve been through a lot, I need a break
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| More life, Never caught
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| Wrong place at the wrong time
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| I ain’t had no chicken in a long time
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| I ain’t seen my youngin' in a fortnight
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| Got a demon triggering the porch light
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| Oh nah!
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| Stay alone cause a lot of y’all the faux kind
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| I don’t trust you if you tell me that you don’t lie
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| Asking how I’m doing, yeah I’m doing fine
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| Don’t you know the foolish always grow wise
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| Capetown with the kinfolk, we don’t play around
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| Grandma was on the slave ship but we home now
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| Mama do not work the grave shift, she in Rome now
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| USA be on that bullshit, better go now
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| Aye!
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| Homie why you stressing, We got one foot in the grave
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| Brother get your money, get yo ass up on the plane
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| Why you with this women if you know she playing games?
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| Why you with this nigga if he treat you like you lame?
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| Let go. |
| You ain’t gotta hold on no more
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| If you got a good thing, go for it
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| We ain’t with the bad things no more
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| Yo, you gotta let go. |
| Let go!
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| You ain’t gotta hold on no more
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| If you got a good thing, go for it
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| We ain’t with the bad things no more
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| They be saying Karma is a bitch, ah
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| But I don’t let them talk about my friends, nah
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| You was taking people from their kids, now you bitter cause I’m chillin' with
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| my kin now, wow
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| I don’t need if I didn’t pull it from the ground
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| Gotta a lot of love so I give to the crowd
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| Man I swear my great, great Grandma would be proud
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| We ain’t pickin' cotton, I’m the nigga with the crown
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| «Thank you very much, its uh, privilege and a honor to be a in the wide
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| intellectual ghetto of the West»
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| In the car, in LA on the 99
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| Sunrise, Red Sky, Ambience
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| Bad days, Rear view, and they stay behind
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| PH 'round 9, livin' alkaline
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| Black boy, You could be what you want to be
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| You the one that carry that baton when they come for me
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| Came from, the concrete that’s a fizzy fact
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| Came up, clear streams in the grizzy grass
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| Keepin' it honest
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| They try to kill you, I promise
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| They do it all for the commas
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| I stay alive for my children, I don’t be trustin' they doctors
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| Politicians is phony, they be villians, imposters
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| They gonna tell you its gold, but show it really be copper
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| And they don’t want you tappin' into all that spirit inside us
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| They want you chasin' the carrot
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| Want you fiendin for pradas
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| They want you sick til you vomit
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| Cause you no use when you concious |