| He just wanna be recognized by the OGs
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| And spray paint in the alleyway while he smokes weed
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| Middle finger up like, «Fuck the judge and the police»
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| Runnin' through the streets late nights, so we don’t sleep
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| He went to work, stashed his Glocks, said, «Look out for the cops»
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| All he ever knew was the streets, always out on the block
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| As he pours a little liquor for his homies to pass
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| He starts to wonder how long it’ll last
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| He never pray to God 'cause he ain’t get no answer
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| All he feels God did was give his grandma cancer
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| Only faith he had left was his Glock 9
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| Hustled on the corner, tag his name on the stop sign
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| No mercy for his enemies
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| Agony and ecstasy
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| The only thing that ever made his heart warm was the Hennessy
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| He sipped from the bottom until the last drop
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| And he says, «Sorry mama, but I just can’t stop, I can’t stop,» look
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| Yeah, he ran the streets stuck in one time
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| R.I.P. |
| tat for his homie who just died
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| He done went to 16 funerals by 17
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| One his 18th birthday all he needed was one 9
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| With 20 in the clip, that’s how you survive in the streets he was from
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| Only way to stay alive just tryna see 21
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| For his homies, he’d ride for 'em
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| His homies, he’d die for 'em
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| Ain’t scared of death 'cause he knows eventualy it’ll come
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| Flowers and candles, filled a memorial on his street
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| In memory of his boy that got shot last week
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| He left behind two little girls
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| He had a family—they'd gather here every night in hopes that God might speak
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| The whole time he had—murder on his mind
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| All he thought was payback and loaded up his 9 and
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| Got with his boys, and he hopped inside the whip
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| Went to an enemy spot and started shootin' out the ride and
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| It’s hard to say if it’s wrong or right
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| And now he’s behind bars with a case to fight
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| 'Cause in the end, nobody wins
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| No matter what situation, it’s never your job to take a life
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| I had to visit you 'cause your moms don’t wanna see you this way
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| I pray to God every night to fight your demons away
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| I just feel like I’m losin' you, homie
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| Can’t you see what they doin'? |
| They just usin' you, man, they foolin' you, homie
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| The streets don’t love us, man, they never did
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| Always so worried 'bout death that we can’t ever live
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| See, the streets got you brainwashed, they fuckin' with ya head
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| That’s when he looked at me and said
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| «I lost my only two brothers to the streets that I rep
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| Besides, my mom is the only fam I really got left
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| The only family I ever had
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| They treated me like a son, I ain’t have a dad
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| See, the streets taught me loyalty, respect, and how to live by a code
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| They never taught me no different, this is all that I know
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| Even though your pops was crazy and he wasn’t always there
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| Even though he made mistakes, homie, that motherfucker cares
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| See, I can’t say the same about mine, homie
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| Really I could give two fucks if he died, homie
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| After the way that he beat my mother, he ain’t never love us
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| That motherfucker’s already dead in my eyes, homie»
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| I told him, «A real man stands up on his own
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| And doesn’t need a fuckin' gang to have his back 'cause he’s grown
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| I know you think nobody cares, but man, that ain’t true
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| Your mom’s already lost two men, she can’t lose you
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| You think these cats would do the same for you?
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| Think they’d take the blame for you?
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| Think these motherfuckers would put they family through pain for you?
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| Where is your hood at when it’s all said and done?
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| You ain’t pull a trigger when that bullet shot from that gun
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| Takin' the blame 'cause you don’t wanna snitch, dog, is you dumb?
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| Takin' care of your moms makes you gangster, not where you from
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| Dog, is you dumb?
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| Takin' care of your moms makes you gangster, not where you from»
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| He said, «It's kill or be killed, understand that shit
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| I got accessory to murder, dawg, they planned that shit
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| How dare you come visit me and act like you better
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| Motherfucker, we from the same place, I can’t stand that shit
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| You always preach God, but do you really believe in Him?
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| If we all sinners, man, what the fuck do we mean to Him?
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| Either He don’t exist or the Devil is beatin' Him
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| When my grandma was down, where was God when she needed Him?
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| You can go your own way, but this the life for me
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| Don’t call, don’t visit, and don’t write to me
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| We all sin, you know better than the next man
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| You ain’t God, you can’t tell me what’s wrong or right for me
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| Some people meant to win, I was meant to fail
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| Some people meant for Heaven, I was meant for Hell
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| Some people meant to live and be free, but not me
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| Been in this system since 7, I was meant for jail
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| I guess nobody is perfect
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| Tell my mama, I’m sorry, but there’s no way to reverse it
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| I guess nobody is perfect
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| Tell my mama, I’m sorry, but there’s no way to reverse it…» |