| 92 dreams, 92 kids, 92 queens
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| 92 kings, 92 boys, 92 girls
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| 92 beats, a 92 world
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| Just a black niggar smoking my cigar
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| Puff, puff that’s that shit
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| Was born in 92, She was 86, I mean 93
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| She’d make a brother stiff
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| Dark blue eyes, caramel lips
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| Momma was a preacher, daddy kinda rich
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| In the year of '92, I mean '93
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| This little boy Rejjie, the birds and the bees
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| Three was the age, N read it from the page
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| Confusion occured and daddy got rage
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| Back in '92, Dr. Dre came
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| The Chronic in my room, daddy would play
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| I started making raps around '98
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| When Big L died, the lord gives and takes away
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| The greatest of the greatest, the worst of the worst
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| Uh uh, I, I
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| Fall in love way too easily
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| Used to treat 'em nice
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| And now I treat 'em like they’re treating me
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| But this isn’t me eagerly
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| Cause I’d rather retreat up where the sweeter be
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| But if its unrequited
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| Then its right for me to flee the scene
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| Like 96
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| Seems my daddy might have dipped
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| And that was it
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| Me I was two
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| So now I couldn’t give a shit
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| But bettered few
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| When the clever grew
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| Stepping out askew
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| «He was bruising to prove the news»
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| Never show him up if iÍ did
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| I never wanted to
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| Tell the honest truth when he would ask me
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| Silent sitting in car seats
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| While he’s hitting the palm trees
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| I’m with him
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| And he be steady grinning
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| The lights reflecting off his golf teeth are blurring my vision
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| But the wheels continue spinning
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| Playing the victim
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| That was his position
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| Hear him speaking some wisdom to women without any vision
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| Mumma wishing
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| Sat reminiscing
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| She couldn’t kiss him
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| The truth is, he was still useless
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| We wouldn’t miss him
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| 92 dreams, 92 kids, 92 queens
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| 92 kings, 92 boys, 92 girls
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| 92 beats, a 92 world |